Secret Keepers
by Burn Our History
Summary: Bughead AU [with Barchie, B&V, Bevin friendship]. While operating an illegal ride service, Jughead Jones meets Betty Cooper, a girl with many secrets and a need to confide in someone outside her circle.
1. Chapter 1

The sky was smeared grey, ugly clouds blurring the day. Parked along its edge, the quiet rush of Sweetwater River nearly had Jughead Jones asleep behind the wheel of his rusting pickup. Aggressive chirping from his phone - a text with a single word, then one with a number - snapped his eyes open.

A job request.

Jughead knew that his operation wasn't the most professional – no business license, no 'special' insurance – or the most legal. But in a town like Riverdale, laws were easily skirted and taxis were virtually non-existent. The one legitimate car service around was helmed by a mobster transfer from New York masquerading as a local entrepreneur, Hiram Lodge, whose luxury appeal priced his rides out of most residents' reach. Jughead took this advantage, his one man, underground enterprise the lesser of necessary evils, and drove strangers around on the weekends. It was the least annoying job that he could possibly have outside of working at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe, which he did more formally a few days a week.

He punched in the number from the screen. "Yeah?"

He was greeted by a feminine voice requesting a ride, to where exactly the caller wouldn't say upfront. When he arrived, she said. Her tone was shaky but determined, like whatever secret came by withholding her destination was one she would only share if Jughead somehow lived up to her expectation. Like she could do this without him, but she wanted a partner, a confidant.

Jughead momentarily wondered why she hadn't asked a close friend for this ride but stopped his train of thought, preferring ignorance about riders' choices and personal lives. He took down the meetup location, described his truck to her, then gave himself a twenty minute window of arrival.

The address was in a neighborhood he had been to a few times, mostly to pick up high school kids who were too drunk to drive home from parties. The streets were arranged in perfect rows, some tapering into cozy cul-de-sacs. The small park looked clean, idyllic to an outsider. Everything was part of the perception of Riverdale that flourished. None of the patchy dirt lawns and overflowing, dented trash cans that dotted the playscapes of his youth. Sunnyside Trailer Park - and the south side in general - was like an ugly slash hidden under a sleeve, its residents the epitome of the forgotten.

The girl, a blond around his own age, was standing in front of a two-story American Dream, arms extended skyward.

Jughead watched as she tightened her ponytail, snapped her umbrella open. He sat back, the reality of her competing with his perception in an intriguing scramble. Her heels began to bounce, her eyes flicking up and down the street, like anyone could speed by at any moment and she would be caught. The pink of her coat was surprisingly unpredictable, Jughead wondering if it had been chosen for her instead of by her. Like the pretty of it was meant to make her fit against the backdrop… yet it didn't.

He shoved his leather jacket behind his seat and scrubbed the last bit of glassiness from his eyes, a passing glance at himself in the rearview reassuring him that he looked more inconspicuous, less youthful serial killer. He grabbed his beanie from the passenger's seat, its addition completely the desired effect.

The truck rolled up to the curb in front of her. Leaning over the seat, he swung the door outward. "You called about a ride?"

Without any introduction or ceremony, she slid into the seat beside him. "Just, go, please." Her glance flicked over her shoulder once more as she snapped her buckle in place. "Toward the highway."

There was no demand, and definitely no insult, in her request. The nerves he'd seen on the sidewalk were coming to life in his truck and Jughead knew the best distraction for her would be the pursuit of her destination. He cruised to the stop sign that ended her block as two teenage girls crossed, one of them staring through the windshield before turning to her friend with a whisper. Had they been giggling about the condition of his truck - it wouldn't be the first time - or did they recognize him… or the blond? Had she noticed? Would it somehow spook her if she had?

Turning his head, Jughead caught her examining his profile instead.

"You look familiar."

Most riders barely noticed him, which Jughead preferred. Yet this girl was staring as if attentive observation would reveal something essential about him. Like _he_ was going to be her distraction.

"I work at Pop's." Not that he ever remembered seeing her there. Kids passed through the iconic diner's doors daily, no face memorable enough to stick. And someone like her, with an apparent presence, he would have likely held onto.

She made a 'huh' sound, and he couldn't tell if his answer satisfied her. "So this is your second job?"

Jughead nodded as he checked his mirrors, his actions meant to convey a focus that would make him inaccessible.

"Why this? Driving, I mean. It seems like you would need to be older to do this. How old _are_ you?" The words came out in a single breath. "And how do stay off of Sheriff Keller's radar? It can't be as simple as a code word in a text."

The shift of his shoulders, roll of his neck, revealed his discomfort with her questions. She asked way too many, but he wasn't surprised. First impressions told him that she was the kind of girl who dug in until she found out what she wanted to know. He just wasn't going to give in so easily.

"So where are we going?"

He noticed her fists clench, her nails seeming to press and tear at her palms as her eyes locked forward. "Before I tell you, you have to promise to take me no matter what." She turned to him, Jughead guessing that her eyes pleaded the way her words refused to.

Promise? Jughead had never felt more uneasy around another person, and he actively avoided other people because of how uncomfortable they made him. She was getting to him but he couldn't let it show. "As long as you're going to put cash in my hand at the end of this, I will take you anywhere you need to go."

Her knee began to bounce. "… I need to get to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy."

Jughead straightened, her quiet words turning his palms slick against the steering wheel. Notoriety shrouded the Sisters of Quiet Mercy group home, as did rumors of illegality and abuse. Brochures sold their methods as helpful, young occupants relearning obedience, discipline, and piety, but that, Jughead knew, was just code for indoctrination, brainwashing. He lacked any and all enthusiasm to drive to a place that had the kind of reputation and made his skin prick with foreboding. Still… "Alright."

"You're not going to ask me why?"

He nearly had, her barely masked surprise sounding like she wanted him to. Instead, he stared straight ahead and shrugged. "I'm not here to pass judgment on what you're doing or why you're doing it."

She nodded, her hands relaxing as they lapsed into silence. It wasn't until they approached the highway that she spoke again. "I'm Betty, by the way." Another secret spoiled, with very little understanding as to why on either of their parts. "Betty Cooper."

Cooper. That name he'd heard before, been warned against. Avoid at all costs, that's what he'd been told. Jughead wondered if she was 'that kind' of Cooper, if the infamy came from her aunt, her mother, or if the last name was more common and she was no relation at all.

With any other rider, finding out would never have been a priority. But he'd already established that she was different. That Betty was nothing as ordinary as a regular job.

Rain began to splatter on the windshield as Jughead passed a sign announcing the distance to their destination. "Well, Betty Cooper, I guess we're off to see the Sisters."


	2. Chapter 2

Rain slicking the roadways slowed their progress but never deterred Betty Cooper's resolve. Whatever lay within the walls of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, she was going to find it.

And with the revelation of her name, as well the newness and potential briefness of Jughead and his presence, Betty found herself incapable of dropping the curtain back over her life.

She went to Riverdale High School – Jughead had figured as much since he'd never seen her when he'd attended South Side High. She was the editor of her school's newspaper, information that aligned with her admitted love for Nancy Drew novels growing up. Her best friends were Veronica Lodge and Kevin Keller, the irony of that mob princess, sheriff's son mash-up not lost on Jughead. Archie Andrews was another name that came up but Betty quieted when she said it. Something was obviously happening there but Jughead didn't ask, the expression he caught in his periphery telling a tale of turmoil, even heartbreak.

Instead, he offered his name when she asked, which made her smile. It was the first time he'd seen her do it since he'd picked her up. It was… nice. Almost like her tension eased for a split second and whatever problems lay at the end of the highway, with the Sisters, were nonexistent. Whatever made her Betty Cooper was allowed to peak through, and he'd been the reason for it. True or not, Jughead didn't often get to feel accomplished when it came to making someone else's life a little better, a little easier. If his presence alone could have that impact, however fleeting, on Betty, he would gladly accept it.

Passing through the front gates and onto the grounds of the home changed the atmosphere instantly, the corners of Betty's mouth dropping, Jughead again unsure as to why either one of them was here. After following a curving pathway, he stopped his truck to the side of the road, the building looming in front of them.

The front façade alone instilled a sense of dread in Jughead, who wrung the steering wheel once or twice before leaning toward the windshield. The grey of the bricks bled into the dreary sky and the panes of the neatly spaced windows were mottled with dust. Jughead half expected to look up and see a jagged cry of 'HELP' etched out in them. It wasn't like every cheesy horror movie or television show he had seen – the place was cloaked in a very real fear and he wasn't sure how anyone could be helped by living there.

Leaning back, his attention was drawn to Betty's flexing hands again. Was she clenching hard enough that it hurt, he wondered. He was tempted to reach out and stop her but she was quick to stop when she noticed he was staring, her hands again flying to adjust her hair.

"Would you come inside with me?"

Even though he hadn't signed up to be the other half of her buddy system, the drive had softened Jughead to her mysterious plight and he wasn't going to abandon Betty to whatever dark forces existed behind the imposing double doors. "Sure." He climbed out of his side of the truck so he could go open the door for her.

The hall leading up to the front desk was damp and the echoes were unsettling. Betty walked close to him, her arm brushing against his periodically. Even as they presented a sallow faced nun with identification, she kept the space between them minimal. She found Jughead comforting. She hadn't intended him to agree to come in but the relief of having someone close by, someone to provide a save if she needed one, made diving deep into the bowels of the depressing place easier.

At least until they were escorted to the back of the compound.

Jughead leaned against the brick enclosure surrounding the exit, watching Betty approach the dreary garden. A slight girl sat in the middle of a stone bench, flanked by two praying statues. The cool fall air had snatched the life from anything that flowered, the hedges a wasteland of withering corpses. Nothing about the landscape inspired silent reflection, the mystery girl looking cold and a little shaky as she sat wrapped up in her own arms.

Betty sat, brushing the other girl's jaggedly shorn hair behind her ear before taking her by the hand. Jughead felt like a creep witnessing something so intimate, like seeing that shared moment was knowing far more than Betty wanted him to. He turned his gaze toward the ground, peeking around every so often to catch glimpses of life with the Sisters. What he noticed than worse than what he was trying to avoid, his worn sneakers his only salvation in all of it.

His discomfort didn't go unnoticed, Betty glancing over to where he stood as the girl next to her spoke softly about being locked away in an asylum. She was called unnatural, the head sister insisting the formerly pink tips of her hair be lobbed off as a way to help remedy her wicked ways. The nuns forced physically exhausting labor on her, dragging heavy sacks back and forth in a barn, only to chastise her mistakes and make her repeat the tasks until she cried. She wasn't allowed to talk to anyone else, boys or girls, and she was given pills if she disobeyed or spoke out of turn. _They don't see me as a person_ , she told Betty. _I'm not even human._

Betty wished that the words didn't sound so real, so painfully lonely. It was almost a relief when a nun came inform both girls that visitations had come to a close and Betty had to go. The other girl held tight to Betty, her pleas for Betty not to leave her wild to the point that she would likely be sedated upon returning to her cell. The absence of her frail frame turned Betty's whole body cold, her arms cradling her elbows as she turned to seek out Jughead.

He had come up beside her after seeing the whole exchange, his hand coming to her shoulder in a soothing gesture quite out of his character. His expression asked a question he was probably too uncomfortable to pose aloud.

"I'm fine. I just… need to get out of here."

He agreed and let her walk close to him again as they skirted the building and took a shortcut back to his truck.

"I take it she's a friend of yours?"

"Yes. Caroline." Betty looked back in the direction they'd come, as if saying the other girls name would make her appear.

"Like… a girlfriend?" The Sisters were known for being one of the few remaining bastions of conversion therapy and Jughead would understand the secrecy of this trip a little better if Betty was hiding a romantic connection to this girl.

"No. At least not to me, anyway." If she was honest, Betty didn't know _that_ much about Caroline. Her favorite book, if she had one, was a mystery. The same thing with her favorite song or food. Whether or not she had a partner. Betty only knew that they were both troubled in similar ways. Betty was lucky that no one could see her problems, that she maintained the whole 'girl next door' persona well, even if she hated that identifier. "She's… someone who understands things about me that I could never tell other people."

Jughead nodded even though he had no idea what it felt like to have someone like that in his life. "It makes sense why you would come out here to see her." But not why she could tell anyone about it. The secret was starting to turn in his stomach, making him worry about this girl who he barely knew.

Tears settled at the corners of Betty's eyes, daring her to blink them into existence. "I wanted to make sure she was okay. This place isn't… the nicest, you know?" She turned away from Jughead. "It doesn't feel like it could really help anyone. Especially her."

Whatever Betty's friend was going through, whatever understanding they shared, Jughead could tell that any admission on Betty's part would feel like a betrayal. "You did the best you could by visiting. She looked like she needed to see a friend."

"I'm going to figure a way to get her out of there." The bright blue of her eyes blurred as she looked at Jughead, fierceness pooling there instead of sadness. "No matter what it takes, I won't let this place ruin her."

The use of his name caught Jughead caused his eyes to meet hers, know surprises in their fierce determination. "Based on everything you told me, if anyone can do it, you can."

"Thank you for saying so." The tips of her fingers brushed her cheek before she rifled through her bag and pulled out a fold of cash. "Here. I know there isn't enough here for everything you did beyond the ride but…" She offered up what she had.

In a split second decision, Jughead covered her hand with his and lowered it. "Keep your money." He drew back, his hand on the wheel again before she could object. "And any other time you want to come out here, just give me some warning and I'll bring you."

Betty's eyes popped. "Really? But why? I mean, you don't owe me that. Or anything at all."

"You're right, I don't." Jughead looked at the large building one more time before checking his mirror before backing up and turning around. He was going against his best interests – no one ever rode for free – but, somehow, Betty had managed to make him car more about her than he did about the money "Maybe I'm giving the whole good Samaritan thing a try."

Betty sat back, a little amazed but entirely sure that his intentions, whatever they were, were genuine. "Thank you, Jughead."

And when he shrugged, again, she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting at her bedroom window, Betty couldn't avoid looking from the empty page of her journal to the view below. The front stoop of the Andrews' house was perfectly framed, Veronica Lodge at its foot in a deep blue cape. Archie practically hopped down the wooden steps, his arm slipping into his letterman jacket as he stumbled to meet her. They stood close - too close to fool anyone into thinking them 'just friends' - as they covered the distance to a sleek town car parked at the curb. If Betty watched them any longer, she would undoubtedly see Archie pass a glance over the perfect curves of Veronica's body as he opened the door for her, then smile at how lucky he was to be taking out such a beautiful girl.

Her best friend and her… Archie. There was no better way in her mind to describe him than hers. They had lived next door to each other all of Betty's life and Archie once said he would marry her in grade school. She had long wanted to be the beautiful girl he coveted, to see his deep brown eyes shine the way they did the day Veronica walked into Pops' and into their lives. Telling him as much as they swayed awkwardly to the clichéd love songs of the Back-to-School Dance had done nothing more than clear his path straight to Veronica. It felt as if she had pushed them together and herself into a corner.

How was it, she'd wondered, that Archie was not good enough for her - as he claimed that night - but was perfectly fit for her best friend? The insult to each of them made Betty's temples throb and her hands ache as she clutched her pen. She couldn't be angry because that made her petty… and 'anger didn't suit her,' according to her mother. And who could she blame? Veronica, who was nothing short of a true friend in all other cases? Archie, who was just following his heart? It wasn't his fault it didn't lead to her.

Her eyes slid away and across her bedroom as her computer screen lit up with a blinking chat request.

Abandoning her journal on her nightstand, she moved slowly across her room. The familiar name that popped up didn't make her smile, but the distraction was a welcome one. A short, black wig caressed her palm a she lifted it from a drawer before settling into her desk chair and clicking on the request.

A young, male face came into focus. Square jaw, dark hair. Nothing like Archie, she thought. Which was precisely what she needed at the moment.

"For a second, I thought you were standing me up."

Betty's head tilted, her fingers trailing the line of her neck. "I wouldn't do that. I like talking to you."

The boy on her screen smirked, the nerves she'd seen in previous chats completely melted away. "I like looking at you."

"Mmm..." She loosed the collar button of her light pink blouse, the next two following in slow succession. "I'll show you more if you'll play along."

As she watched the boy - he went by the handle **slicksnake** \- strip his shirt away, her lips curled into the slightest smile. 

* * *

More than an hour had passed when the brass knob of Betty's bedroom door jangled, insistence on her opening the door following swiftly.

Slamming the laptop shut, Betty stashed the wig and wrapped her mostly naked body in her pink bathrobe before wrenching the door open. The force of it almost pulled Alice Cooper into her daughter's room, her sharp blue eyes scouring the space for any hint of wrongdoing.

"What are you doing in there that requires a locked door?"

Betty shielded herself with folded arms, hoping that her mother would not notice the warm flush of her cheeks or the tousle of her blond locks caused by the wig. "Talking to creepy guys online, obviously."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, Elizabeth. You know I don't like locked doors in this house."

"I was about to take a shower, mom. That's all. I didn't want you barging in while I was getting undressed, since you have no concept of boundaries or privacy."

Alice, never the kind of mother who let anything go, snapped her shoulders back and leveled Betty with her disapproval. "If you gave me reasons to trust you, I would. But you constantly defy me when it comes to the friends you keep and the disrespectful attitude you show me."

Turning her back on Betty indicated that the conversation had ended, Alice neglecting to close the door behind her as she went.

Betty wanted to slam it, then scream into her pillow. Why couldn't she have a normal mother, one who listened to and supported her? Maybe then she wouldn't have to confide in strangers on the internet with who she really was or the parts of her she didn't always like.

Lying across her bed, Betty stared toward the window again. She felt lonely knowing that she couldn't text with her best friend about everything, Veronica more than likely enjoying her taste of Archie's lips in a booth at Pop's. Kevin was equally inaccessible at a time like this, Betty not wanting to challenge his allegiance to Veronica. What else would she possibly talk to him about? Kevin wasn't the judgmental sort but he would want to know _everything_ , which was too much when it came to her online alter ego or the darkness that fueled it.

No one was left, her only other confidante being locked away like some degenerate.

Betty forced herself to forget about her own issues and focus on Caroline and her great escape from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. An escape that Betty would orchestrate.

Sitting up, Betty grabbed her journal again, opening to a fresh page and started working on a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

The lull of Tuesday afternoon made Pop's the perfect place for Betty to pour over what she had dug up on the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. The Riverdale Public Library had a hidden treasure trove of local history information in the basement, Betty having spent hours there making photocopies over the past week.

The Sisters of Quiet Mercy were rooted in the humble beginnings of many traditional convents, their original notoriety stemming from their work with poor and disenfranchised children and orphans. The age of Prohibition led the sisters down a darker path, the allure of greed turning the institution into a refuge for bootleggers trying to cross at the border. 'Rumors' had been the standard response on fraternization between the sisters and any criminal element for decades. The public was convinced that such devout women would never stand for such disgraceful illegality taking place in their sanctuary. Even the current sisters balked at the idea that illegal practices, such as conversion therapy, taking place within their walls.

But the proof was clear when Betty examined long forgotten blueprints she'd discovered in the library archives. Tunnels crisscrossed the asylum's subterranean level and stretched off the edge of her copies. No markings or notes revealed their official purpose, leaving Betty to conclude that rum runners had used them to move liquor into Riverdale in the previous century. Now, gay kids stowed away their identities in the cold darkness, the forgotten tunnels serving as a hook-up spot, according to Kevin Keller.

She wasn't quite sure how but the tunnels were the key to saving her friend.

Betty was focused, her pencil scratching feverishly across a yellow legal pad, when the diner's front door whooshed. "Another little mystery you're working on?" Betty's head snapped up to find Veronica sliding into the booth across from her. "I swear, you are the living embodiment of Nancy Drew."

"Uhm, just a project for history class." Betty shoved everything into her bag, Veronica's words sounding a little condescending to her. Or was she just being sensitive to the fact that her best friend was clearly dating the boy she loved and was keeping it a secret? She looked over Veronica's shoulder, desperate for bells to sound again, for anyone to step forward as a distraction.

"Ah." Veronica rested her arms flat to the table, her hands folded in front of her. A classic negotiation pose that caused Betty to brace herself. "So, I have something to tell you. Something that, I know, is in direct violation of girl code. But…you're my best friend." Her perfectly manicured hand reached for Betty's across the table. "And I know if you hear me out, you'll be happy for me."

Giddy rambling wasn't something Betty normally witnessed from Veronica. She was sleek, put together, and smart, her qualities extending far beyond the pampered entitlement that some people associated with her Manhattan upbringing. Veronica was was everything that people never considered, and she allowed Betty to see the girl beyond the reputation that followed her to their small town. Betty was seeing that same girl in the way that Veronica talked about Archie - he was as sweet and wonderful to Veronica as he had been to Betty. 'The perfect boyfriend…' were the only words that rung clear over the piercing ring in Betty's ears.

How could Betty not be happy for her friend? She would be the devil.

The hand sitting in her lap squeezed tight, her nails biting at the already tender wounds.

"...Bee?"

Betty's lips moved of their own accord, a smile traversing them with no effort at all. 'Good girl' was her role and no matter how much she despised it, she excelled at playing it. "Vee, of course I'm…."

A shadow covering the end of the table halted Betty's well-honed lie. "Hey."

"Jughead."

Veronica looked first at the boy standing at the table's edge then at Betty. "Jughead?"

Jughead plucked the pencil from behind his ear and pointed to the nametag pinned to his white apron. "Mystery solved." Looking between the girls, he chose Betty as his focus. "Need anything? Cheeseburger? Milkshake?" The truth was he had just walked in, five minutes late for the start of his shift, when he had seen Betty sitting in the booth with her friend. He hadn't intended to approach the table but the subtle way Betty's face tensed when she had tried smiling was a warning beacon to Jughead. He wasn't in the habit of saving anyone, but he had a feeling Betty needed it more than she would ever say.

"A milkshake...sure. Strawberry, please." Jughead noticed that her expression morphed into something approaching real.

He nodded, scribbling down what she wanted then turned to girl sitting across from her. "You?"

Veronica had looked between Betty and Jughead, her gaze fixed on Betty like she was trying to puzzle out a "what," then a "how." Then, her own conclusions assumed, Veronica rolled over Jughead's request with a curving mouthful of perfectly white teeth. "Veronica Lodge."

"Great. You want anything?"

Betty had never seen Veronica so thoroughly dismissed, nor had she seen the reaction of it in her friend. Again, Veronica was stuck with a mystery she couldn't solve. She wasn't so arrogant to believe that everyone knew her but Jughead's lack of interest was a clear deviation from the norm. "No, actually."

Jughead tucked the pencil back in its place and moved away from the table, Betty's attention following him, her gratitude hidden in a tic at the corner of her mouth.

"Do you… know him?"

Betty's smoothed over features were in direct contrast with Veronica's seemingly confused ones, her new fret being the connection between Betty and the dark-haired boy working behind the counter. "A little. He gave me a ride."

"You barely know him and you got into his car?" Veronica's indignation was indecipherable. Betty wanted to believe that it was concern, maybe even a little fear, for a friend. But she couldn't be sure that Veronica wasn't still slightly wounded by Jughead's rebuke.

"It was raining. I needed a ride. Besides, it's not like Archie was home to ask."

Veronica seemed to trip on guilt, her hard expression vanishing. "Bee, you know I would never keep Archie from you. You've been friends for so long and I respect that. All I'm asking is that you do the same for whatever my relationship with him becomes. Okay?"

"Okay." Betty felt far short of even that simple sentiment, but she had no interest in the conflict that would exist within her social circle if she did not outwardly accept the budding romance between her friends.

"Excellent." Veronica beamed as she slid her bag onto her arm. "Now, I have to run. Josie and I are rehearsing a duet for the assembly on Friday. But I'll text you later." Veronica leaned over to kiss Betty on the cheek before dashing for the door.

The bells on the door clinked again, the sound chilling the space between Betty's shoulders. Her head dropped into her palm as she stared out the window.

"Was it a train wreck?" Jughead was standing over her again, looking in the same direction she was. All he saw was her somber reflection in the glass. "It looked like one."

"No… she's just dating the boy I like." _Like_ , she decided, was an understatement that would make her situation seem like a trivial high school problem unworthy of Jughead's potential judgment. It also made her seem less like a desperate loser who pined over her childhood sweetheart. "But isn't that typical? The beautiful, mysterious rich girl always gets the boy."

Setting her shake down on the table, Jughead perched himself against the back of the booth, arms folded. "I don't know. I mean, sure, she has a certain noir appeal to her, a little Hedy Lamarr, but that doesn't make her special."

Jughead clearly wasn't immune to beauty, but he didn't appear enticed by Veronica's exterior. Betty could not place what that meant, if it had meaning at all, but she found the stark sincerity of it somehow calming. "The problem is… there is something about Veronica. If she was just some brainless socialite from New York, she and I wouldn't be friends." Her eyes cast down, the clear green of them disappearing from the sunlit glare of the window pane. "Apparently, I'm not the only one who noticed."

"...Archie, right?" The vagueness of the name made Jughead feel like he had guessed wrong. The way she turned to him, her usual facade dropped in a moment of surprise, told its own story.

"Yes… Archie. I can't believe you...

"Call me a savant. Useless information is my specialty."

"Stockpiling any information on the property surrounding the Sisters of Quiet Mercy? Because I have the beginning of a plan when it comes to Caroline." Grabbing the blueprints out of her bag, she spread them out in front of them. Jughead tracked the underground paths as she traced them out and listened to her explain her theory on how they connected to the main buildings. "If these tunnels lead into the woods we saw on the drive up, I'd just have to find a way through them then park along the side of an adjoining road. The problem with that is the car. I don't have one and I'm sure that my mother won't let me borrow hers."

Jughead saw so many problems with the direction of her plan but the hope he heard in her voice, something so persuasive in its vulnerability that it quieted him. He could not make sense out of how affected he let himself be when it came to Betty. And as sure as he was that he didn't like it, he had made a promise to help her the first time they'd met. "Look, I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong. I would want to spring my friend too if I had one locked up in that hellhole. This plan, though… it could mean real consequences for me if I get caught with two underage girls, one who the authorities could say he helped kidnap from a mental hospital. In my family, you try to avoid jail time if at all possible."

Betty hadn't realized she wanted Jughead as her accomplice in this prison break until he explained why he couldn't be. Disappointment took hold, Betty incapable of hiding it. "It's okay. The less people who are involved, the better."

His gaze drifted back to the window, Jughead making a point of not meeting Betty's eyes. "It'd take a few days but I might be able to help you with the car. I know a guy."

Betty nodded, untroubled by this 'guy' and how Jughead might know him. Pushing the line back was the only way she could avoid undermining her own sense of right and wrong. That meant overlooking any nefarious dealings on Jughead's part. "That would be a big help."

"I'll let you know. Until then…" He stood straight again. "The inane tasks of working at Pop's are calling my name. See you around."

Betty sipped on her milkshake as she watched him walk away. Even if he couldn't help her in the way she had initially wanted, Jughead still felt like the closest thing she had to a friend at the moment. He didn't know it, but that was worth more than anything else he could for her.


	5. Chapter 5

The contrasts in Jughead's life were never more apparent to him than when he sat in front of the Whyte Wyrm on his secondhand motorcycle. Soda jerk to just jerk in ten minutes, or so he quipped. His transition was nowhere near as virtuous as Clark Kent to Superman, especially since he was sure the 'good guys' never joined biker gangs at 16.

Jughead's Southside Serpent history was common knowledge and, at the same time, a well-kept secret. The only people who knew were Pop Tate, who'd made an effort to talk Jughead out of joining, Sheriff Keller, who efforts to ticket or arrest Jughead were mostly frivolous, and everyone else in his life, who all had some connection to the gang.

Except Betty Cooper, he thought as he leaned back on his seat. He had never considered befriending her, much less telling her about his real life. Random texts and a cheeseburger - her treat - after his last shift at Pop's weren't on his agenda either but both had happened. He tried to chalk it up to her needing the car, but her plan came up less in her texts and not at all as they'd sat at the counter at Pop's earlier. A week had passed since his original offer and Jughead was having a difficult time avoiding the fact that what they shared increasingly felt like friendship despite his purposefully unattractive personality. Any nice girl from the North Side wouldn't have overlooked that. But Betty, as he was learning, was more complex than her geography. Not quite an enigma but she still had something secret to her. Something that made her different.

Dismounting the bike, Jughead settled his helmet on the handlebars then trekked across a crumbling asphalt parking lot towards a dull green building, the most notable thing about it the painted cobra adorning the building's awning.

The Whyte Wyrm was ground zero for all things Serpent. Petty crime was as easy to come by as idol nuisance. Some guys were there to be part of a swarm. Others just had no place better to be. Lady Serpents were rare but there, their presence predicated by what Jughead thought were degrading initiation rituals. He had made a short-lived stand for change but was cut down by accusations of treason and threats of excommunication. He'd never set out to be a Serpent, his mom threatening to skin him alive if he ever joined. But she hadn't stuck around to stop him, compliments of his old man, and he didn't want to find out what surviving the South Side was like without backup. The Serpent camaraderie may not have been ideal but strength in numbers kept him safe enough.

Entering the building, he spotted Slash and Sweet Pea, two Serpents around his age but still in high school, sitting down the bar. Sweet Pea hovered over Slash, his height apparent even when seated, like he was trying to pump him for information. Or he was being his usually irritating self. Jughead moved toward the after grabbing the cold root beer that Hog Eye, the Wyrm's owner, passed him. "What's the good word, fellas?"

"Slash's smokin' webcam date, that's what." Sweet Pea nudged his fellow Serpent, the tips of Slash's ears shading hot as he mumbled 'shut up,' to his compatriot. "She's apparently into black lace and kinky roleplaying."

Jughead had little interest in whatever shady online meetups Slash was involved in, especially if they got approval from Sweet Pea. "Don't be a creep, man." He slumped down unto a stool, his lids dropping shut against the smoky light filtering from the bar. "At least the girl he's talking to is real. That's more than you can say about the girls you watch online."

Something flashed in Sweet Pea's gaze, but he quickly tamped it down. "Whatever."

Technicality defined Jughead's friendship with Sweet Pea. Two boys who were bonded in brotherhood by little more than a history of trailer parks and initiation rituals. Not that Sweet Pea was inherently bad because of his upbringing, just as Jughead wasn't. Still, the Serpent life seemed enough for him. For Jughead, the world didn't begin at Sunny Side and end at The Wyrm. The South Side may have been his comfort zone but it wasn't all he saw of what little future he had.

"She's a way to pass the time." Slash looked up from the bar top like was about to mount a defense. "I wouldn't call it a date."

"Sure, man. Just make sure she's legal. The last thing we need is someone worse than Keller coming down on us because you messed around with some girl online." Jughead kept his tone neutral but made sure that Slash saw how serious he was.

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes but Slash seemed to consider something he hadn't before, his nod a gesture in second guessing.

"Either of you see the boss around?"

Sweet Pea's only response was to thumb towards the back of the building before hopping on an empty pool table.

Jughead waited and watched the game for a few minutes before slinking in the direction of the Wyrm's 'office.' It wasn't much more than a dingy closet with a dumpster desk and one bare, sagging lightbulb, but it was private. That was why most of the under the table dealings took place there. And why the Serpent king spent most of his time there.

He dropped into one of the two chairs stuffed into the room, the older man sitting in the one opposite. The desk was the only thing separating them. "Dad."

F.P. Jones straightened in his chair, days old stubble scrubbing his face. He and Jughead hadn't crossed paths at home in longer than that, which usually meant that F.P. had been on a bender. The drinking, and joblessness, was why Jughead's mom had taken his younger sister, Jelly Bean, and moved to Ohio. F. P. didn't fall into the 'husband and father' archetype and the only person who overlooked it was Jughead. Especially when he needed his father's connections to crime.

"You don't normally come back here." F.P. snapped up a beer bottle from the desk and took a sip. Jughead winced, wondering how warm and old the brew was. "Not unless you want something."

They both knew that F.P. was blowing smoke, probably because anything less would be difficult for him to accept. Concern wasn't something he often doled out, even though Jughead reassured himself his father cared deeply. Receiving it back, especially in the form of Jughead spending long hours at the Wyrm just to gauge his father's wellbeing, was a sad reminder of what F.P. had become. And he often couldn't face that failure. "Yeah. I kind of… I need a car, just for a day or two. One that isn't going to draw attention."

"What're you into, boy?"

"Nothing bad. A friend needs it and I said I could help."

F.P. wanted to counter the word friend, but he wasn't present enough in Jughead's life to know whether or not he had any. Still, Jughead knew he could easily deny the request with less of a reason. "This friend going to cause problems for us?"

Of all the problems the Serpents had, most being of their own making, Betty Cooper's Escape from Alcatraz reboot barely qualified as worrisome. "She doesn't even know that there is an 'us.'"

"She?" F.P. leaned back, his eyes focusing long enough to break through the fugue and consider his son. "You're not messed up with some girl, are you?"

The expression on Jughead's face turned indignant. "Of course you'd think that." When F.P. didn't flinch, Jughead relented. "No, alright? No one is pregnant. No one going to be. She just needs the car to visit a friend and she doesn't want anyone to know. So are you gonna help or not?"

Jughead felt guilty for pushing his dad so hard, but his tactic worked when F.P. plucked his cell phone from the messy desktop and started scrolling. "I know a guy who works for an impound in Greendale. He'll need a couple days notice but I'll give him the heads up you'll be calling."

Grateful, Jughead nodded and muttered an uncomfortable, 'thanks,' before standing up to leave. He pretended not to hear, "Be careful, son" as he shut the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Betty's foot bounced against the leg of her chair, the ticking from the gated clock on the wall like a taunting foghorn. Peering out the second floor window of Riverdale High School, she searched for a familiar truck, the absence of it only adding to her anxiety. Jughead would be waiting to meet her across the street from the front entrance at the end of the school day, the crush of students the perfect cover for her to slip away easily and move the pieces of her plan into place without scrutiny.

Her last two weekends had been spent scouting the woods surrounding the Sister's sanctuary, Jughead giving her a ride each time with no protest. He even followed her the first time, voicing some concern that she would be vulnerable if she happened to encounter strangers in the woods. It took time but they managed to find the entrance to the tunnel, Betty investigating further on her own. The distance from the basement of the main building to the outside opening of the tunnel was considerable and Betty knew she and Caroline would have to navigate it quickly so as not to be caught. She worried Caroline might not have the strength - she'd looked so pale and frail the last time Betty had visited – but the tunnel her only way out, the only way Betty could save her. She would carry Caroline on her back if she had to.

If everything went as planned, Caroline would be on a bus heading southwest before midnight.

Trying not to draw attention to herself, Betty did not spring up and make a mad dash out of the school when the bell finally rang. She greeted friends in the hall, even wishing Josie McCoy a good weekend. Like it was any other Friday afternoon, absolutely casual.

Her visage of Betty Cooper, perfect student and best friend to all, remained unflappable until she emerged through the doors, her blue-green eyes sweeping the street only to find her dark-haired partner in crime sporting a leather jacket and balancing on a motorcycle.

"What…" She waved at the length of the bike, shock clearly written on her face as she approached.

"I look pretty out of place here, and hanging around will draw the wrong kind of attention." Smirking, Jughead offered up a rounded black helmet. "Hop on."

Betty hesitated, but quickly took the helmet and awkwardly straddled the back of the seat when she heard her name coming from somewhere in the crowd. "Let's go." Without prompting, Betty leaned into Jughead and slid her slim arms around him.

The absolute trust of the gesture caused Jughead to fumble the throttle. It'd been a long time since he'd been that close to another person, even longer since someone had faith in him for no other reason than his presence. Normally, such obvious emotion would have made him uncomfortable. But if he was being honest with himself, he was starting to feel the same way about her.

"Hold on tight."

Betty swore she heard a new mischief in his voice as the bike's engine kicked on and Jughead zipped into traffic.

* * *

Knuckles blanched, Betty gripped the steering wheel of a dark sedan as she pulled off the road. The drive from the impound lot had been nerve racking, even with Jughead's bike a constant in the rearview. He had followed her all the way to the spot she had chosen to leave the car. The darkening sky of dusk would make it less conspicuous, just another car abandoned due to an empty gas tank or engine trouble. No one would ever peg it as a getaway car - that was Betty's hope.

Jughead parked behind her and approached the driver's side of the car as Betty stepped out. "You ready for this?"

Her gaze fixed on the pink-orange burn of the horizon. "I… I don't know. It was so clear in my mind. I went over it a hundred times to make sure there would be no mistakes." She finally managed to look at Jughead, her courage still wavering. "I sent Caroline 'get well' card with a coded message of where to meet me and when. I even signed it as an old friend of hers from church camp so it couldn't be traced back to me. I managed to do all of that but now that I'm here…"

"It isn't the same. It's not just pen to paper anymore. It's real."

Betty nodded. "And if this doesn't work, the consequences..."

She didn't need to finish - Jughead understood consequences all too well. They kept him safe and smart. They also flew in the face of what he felt was right, helping his friend in this case. "You'll make it work." He opened her door and waited for her release her death grip on the wheel and climb. "Because you have to. There's no other choice."

"No, there isn't." Her shoulders set and she blew out a breath to steady herself. Her fists began to ball, her palms already cut raw, when she felt a hand reach for hers.

Jughead's long fingers wrapped around hers, his thumb sweeping over the marks. It was a tender gesture, one that felt somehow monumental coming from Jughead. And yet… she wasn't surprised. "You can do this, Betty. Nothing can stop you."

"See you at the bus station?" Her smile was weak but resolved.

"I'll be there." He squeezed her fingers gently before letting go.

* * *

The tunnel felt claustrophobic, the depth of darkness barely passable by the light emitted from Betty's phone. It was obvious the subterranean routes had been long forgotten but foreboding still managed to slither under her skin. Anything and everything could go wrong, the worst case scenarios ending in Caroline's confinement becoming permanent and solitary. Betty's throat tightened as she pictured her friend reaching for the door that separated the tunnel from the basement only to be snatched back by a spindly fingered nun.

Betty's feet moved faster, the distance from entrance shrinking in her wake. She would be there to grab her friend's hand and pull her through. Nothing would stop her, especially not some crazy old bitch who believed that Caroline's alleged indecency needed to be cured.

The wooden slats of the door were moldering, the years of neglect apparent in the dim wash of light. It would not hold anyone following them back. Betty crouched, pressing her cheek the rough boards. "Caroline?" Her whisper was hoarse, fear gripping her when no response came.

 _Please answer_ quickly became her silent prayer and her breaths began to puff rapidly in front of her face from cold.

Her heart nearly burst from her chest as her friend flew through the door and pressed her back to it. "Betty… we have to…"

Wasting no time on words, Betty grabbed Caroline's hand and ran.


	7. Chapter 7

Jughead leaned against a tree, his thumbnail practically bleeding from his incessant chewing.

Despite what he'd said, hiding out at the bus station while Betty waded through the asylum's underbelly felt like what Sweet Pea would call a 'bitch move.' Obviously using Sweet Pea as a moral compass was stupid, but it reminded Jughead that, as a Serpent, he lived by a code. _In unity there's strength_. Just because Betty wasn't one of them didn't mean that he shouldn't have her back. Even if it landed him across an interrogation table from Sheriff Tom Keller, he was the partner she'd chosen and he was riding it out to the end with her.

In the dark it was nearly impossible to see anything coming, but when Jughead heard crashing near the path they had mapped out, he could feel the plan rip wide open. Running toward the noise, he found the girls jumbled together near the tree line. Betty curled in on herself as she tried to sit, Jughead fumbling for his phone to illuminate them all.

"She tripped." Caroline. He had barely noticed her as she had gotten to her feet. Her demeanor was surprisingly cool, like all fear had seeped out of her. "I tried to help…"

"The Sisters will have called the police by now." Betty's voice was a shrill bark, like she was losing control for the first time. "They're coming."

Jughead sprang to action, running to the car and grabbing the borrowed rucksack that held a stash of clothes, cash, a disposable cell phone and Caroline's bus ticket. "Here, change." He tossed the bag at Caroline, who immediately started to strip out of her standard issue, prison pajamas without the slightest hesitation.

Jughead had to ignore his growing panic if he was going to get Caroline out safe. But how? If the cops caught her in the car, they were all in a world of trouble and the law would come down heavily on the Serpents when the web was weaved together. Exactly what his dad had warned against. He glanced over the slick surface of the road, his bike bathed in the moonlight.

"What are the chances you know how to ride a motorcycle?"

Caroline secured her hair in a messy knot, something devilish curving her lips. "Pretty good, actually."

With no time for questions, Jughead tossed the keys to his bike at Caroline then slipped off his jacket and handed it to her. "The bus station is ten minutes west of here. Dump the bike in the overgrown ditch across the road from the depot." He pointed toward the highway, directing her to go straight for three exits. "They'll come here first to check the woods. Betty and I will try to buy some time."

Caroline, slung the strap of the rucksack across her body. "Thanks." She kneeled next to Betty, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "You risked everything for me. I'll never be able to pay you back for that." She kissed Betty's cheek. "But I'm gonna try."

The bike sped off, Jughead watching and hoping he'd see it again. More, he hoped this stranger who he'd entrusted it to would get out.

He turned back to Betty, who sat frozen, an angelic statue of horror. It was the first time he'd seen anything but bravery from her and it shook him more than the sound of sirens in the distance.

Gathering her up off the ground, he tucked her into the passenger's side of the car. With no time to think, Jughead threw the car into drive and gunned it. He skidded to a stop a few hundred feet down the road before making a sloppy U-turn so they were facing the approaching any cars head on.

"The cops'll have us boxed in." He wrung the wheel and looked at Betty, half expecting her to have a plan.

Staring ahead, Betty's words came slowly. "Get in the back."

Jughead looked skeptical. "What… why?"

Finally snapping to, Betty tried articulate the terrible plan coming together in her mind. "If we look like we came here to mess around in the backseat of a car, it's going to make whoever finds us incredibly uncomfortable." Soldiering through the excruciating throb in her ankle, she squeezed between the seats and flopped into the backseat. "We may be able to avoid too many questions that way."

Jughead swiped the beanie from his head, his fingers tugging at his hair. "I don't know." Even though he did. Kids came up here and hooked up all the time, according to her. What better reason for them to be there? He wished he knew one, Jughead quickly becoming one of the incredibly uncomfortable people she had mentioned.

Her breath caught in her chest as their eyes met between the seats. How was it so easy to convince men to watch her do what she did online yet suggesting a fake-out to Jughead was complicated. Because it was real? Because he would see her after this and know who she was? She'd never wanted to be that other, darker side of herself in person much less have anyone see it. But hadn't he all along? He'd been breaking the law with her for weeks. And when he'd held her hand earlier, then saved her friend when she floundered, he'd never been afraid of who she was. Maybe he could forget about this too.

Reaching out, her hand closed around his wrist. "I know this sounds insane. And if you don't want to, we won't actually touch. It'll just… look like it."

Jughead relented as she tugged him back next to her, his expression skewing stunned as she undid the buttons of her blouse and loosened her ponytail until her hair fell around her. "For effect." He nodded and pulled his shirt off, his shoulder tattoo catching her attention. A snake. She was about to ask when flashes of bright red and blue popped in front of them, the seat backs blocking the direct glare of headlights.

Turning toward her, Jughead prepared to make a show of kissing her without actually doing it only to be met by the soft, electric sizzle of her lips on his.

Her hands gently took his face and his arm drew around her, his palm resting against the small of her back. It was meant to be a ruse, an excuse. But it felt real, more real than his last kiss and the one before that. Toni Topaz, fellow Serpent and former fling, might have punched him in the face for putting her second to a 'North Side princess,' but he couldn't manage to care. He liked this feeling with Betty - maybe too much - even if he couldn't nail down what it was or meant.

He nearly didn't hear the rapping on the window and he only stopped when a cold gust of night air clutched his bare limbs as he was yanked out of the car. "Jughead Jones and…"

Sheriff Keller's cadence and manner had never been particularly harsh but both lost all authority, becoming dad like and confused, when Betty slid to the open side of the car, clutching her blouse. "Betty?"

Her played embarrassment may have been passable to Keller, but Jughead could still feel the brush of her tongue to his. The scared girl who'd burst out of the woods was gone. Betty Cooper was no victim. And Tom Keller was no match for her.

The sheriff looked away as she fumbled with her buttons. "What are you doing here? And with..."

"Having a good time," Jughead piped in, the glare pointed in his direction making him want to laugh. "People do that sometime. You should try it."

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Betty looked down at the ground. "Please don't tell my mom. She would freak out."

Keller waved another officer over to the car. "Let's not worry about that right now." He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat before dragging Jughead down the road.

"What the hell is going on here? You've got that poor girl out here, doing who knows what."

It annoyed Jughead that he was suddenly some kind of predator. Of all thing things Keller could bust him on, sexual assault wasn't one of them. "Gimme a break, man. I took the class. No means no..." Jughead had to regain composure, he could not lose his temper. "She was the one who suggested it. According to her good buddy, Kev, this place is prime makeout real estate."

The mention of Kevin seemed to shake Keller, the idea that he was meeting up with random dudes in the creepy woods sending ice cold parental fear up his spine. "Whose car is that? If I run that plate, is it going to be stolen?"

"A friend let me borrow it. Truck's in the shop." Half true, Jughead thought as Keller scrutinized him. Despite being adversaries, Jughead knew the sheriff wasn't stupid and pushing a lie too far would easily end any chance of Jughead walking away from this scene.

"Have you seen anyone else out here tonight? The nuns up at the orphanage said that one of the girls wasn't in her bed when they checked. Maybe she was trying to have the kind of good time you were working at."

"I really wasn't looking for Wanda in the woods." Jughead's gaze flicked quickly over to Betty, who had the young officer with Keller on the ropes - the guy was handing her his cup, presumably filled with warming coffee. "I only had one girl on my mind."

Keller paced a bit, the weight of a missing girl clearly pressing on him. It was strange how Caroline's escape had been so damning to Jughead before when it was now the one distraction that could free him. Whether or not the sheriff wanted to buy Jughead's poorly orchestrated lies, he didn't have the luxury of time.

"Take that girl home. And whatever you're up to with her, it should probably stop. I may not be able to do anything but her mother is a whole other kind of mess you don't want in your life."

"Is that… is that concern, Sheriff? I'm touched that my well-being means that much to you."

"Get out of here!"

Jughead didn't have to be told twice, walking back to the car. The younger officer gave him a look, likely meant as a warning, before following Keller toward the woods.

"So?"

Jughead glanced in the rearview, seeing Betty looking out the window. "Let's get out of here before they start asking real questions."

Betty remained quiet as the tires kicked up gravel and sped away from the scene.


	8. Chapter 8

Betty twisted the charm at her neck, cold sweat chilling her skin and staining her bedsheets.

In the dream, Betty had seen Caroline. On each side of the fragile girl, a Sister. Combing her hair, stroking her cheek. They fussed over her, but she'd already disappeared inside her own mind - a colorless husk. No one could reach her there. No one could save her.

Then Betty saw a gauzy reflection in the shallow emptiness of Caroline's dead eyes. Another girl. Because she was wicked and sinful, this girl received no maternal gestures of kindness. Instead, a hand tightened around her throat, her windpipe snapping shut.

It was _her_.

Betty had awoken gasping, her tangled legs making her feel trapped.

It had been a nearly a week since Caroline fled the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Since Betty had heard from her. Caroline had never agreed to check in - there had been no time for Betty to ask - but that was the whole purpose of giving her a phone. Betty wanted to know Caroline had made it to where she was going, that she hadn't been caught or, worse, kidnapped by some sadistic stranger at one of the stops the bus made. Each day that passed without a call or text left Betty questioning if she'd done the right thing.

She stopped fidgeting as more terrible scenarios bombarded her, squeezing the walls of her room around her.

 _Get out…_

Before she could think any more about her dream, or her friend, she was standing in front of her house.

The sky was heather gray, the color of a virgin morning, yet everything in front of her glared at her in neon. The grass was hyper green, the houses a perfect row of brightly colored blocks. Was she seeing things through overly tired eyes? Was her mind finally giving way too madness?

 _Deep breaths. Focus._

Jughead slowly encompassed and overtook the growing confusion in her mind. Even more than Caroline, she wished that he would reach out to her. They had stayed in the car for hours that night, Jughead parking behind an abandoned building on Riverdale's South Side, staring and sitting. The questions Betty had wanted to ask rattled around in her head but ended up stuck there. When her hand had started to clench, he'd reached for it. The warmth was like an approval that Betty hadn't known she was seeking. Even if he did not know the how's or why's of her, he seemed to accept her regardless.

"Betty…"

Her thoughts crashed back into a momentary panic. Betty turned to find Archie standing next to her.

"Jees, Arch. You scared me."

"Sorry. I saw you standing out here and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Especially since it seemed like you were avoiding my texts the last few days."

Avoidance was a strong accusation, thought Betty. Preoccupation had led to a number of texts from several friends going unanswered. She hadn't exactly singled Archie out. "Oh, yeah. I've been really busy. School and helping my mom at the Register."

His nod was one of acknowledgement, not acceptance. "Well, me and Veronica are celebrating having the day off with breakfast at Pop's. You should come."

Betty looked down at her ratty pink sweatshirt and shorts, suddenly aware that her hair was still matted in the back. Not exactly brunch ready. "I don't know. I have an essay to write for English and chores." Anything, no matter how untrue, to get her out of this.

"C'mon. When was the last time we all hung out together?"

Before you two started screwing, Betty thought dully. She wasn't quite so angry or crushed by it as she had been. It was cliché, she knew, but her problems - her whole world, really - now seemed bigger than one boy who hadn't liked her back.

Still, they were friends. And maintaining a routine was important to keeping her secrets. Pancakes at Pop's could only help in that respect. "Okay. I'll go get ready."

* * *

Arriving at a diner in Veronica's sleek, luxury vehicle, complete with driver, seemed a little over the top, but Betty kept that opinion to herself. Archie and Veronica seemed so thrilled that she had tagged along on their day date the she didn't want to dampen their collective good mood with her own bad one.

So she sat and smiled on cue when Veronica gushed about her upcoming baptism - Betty was invited, of course - and how Josie would be performing one of Veronica's favorite songs. Betty's attention had begun to fade in earnest when Veronica's head snapped toward the jangling door.

"Isn't that your friend? Jarhead?"

"Jughead." The relief was obvious to her ears. Could her friends hear it too? "Jarhead is slang for a Marine."

Without waiting for a response, Betty slid out of their booth and approached the counter where Jughead was perched. "Hey." The word was soft, almost apologetic. Even though Betty wasn't sorry. "I haven't heard from you. I was worried that maybe the police were bothering you."

Jughead looked up from his book, a little surprised to see Betty standing next to him. "Yeah, sorry. I've been laying low in this abandoned bunker in the woods." The words came fast, Jughead quickly wondering why he had revealed his secret crash pad. Especially when he was sure that, if she wanted, Betty could figure out what and where the bunker was.

"What about your bike? Did the police find it near the bus depot?"

"Naw. I made sure it was out of there before the cops could get to it." He had shot off a text to Fangs and Sweet Pea that night, telling them where his bike was and that they needed to pick it up. They hadn't asked questions, just like he wouldn't have if another Serpent had asked him for a favor. "Heard from Caroline? Is she alright?"

Betty shook her head, her eyes starting to water a little before she stilled her emotions. She sat down on the stool next to his, leaning in slightly. "I've been worried. I feel like she would have called by now. And I didn't take down the number of the phone I gave her so I can't call."

"Sometimes plans gets messed up. But she was pretty steady that night and the fact that she rides tells me she's not some sheltered flower. Whatever's going on, she's got that stuff on her side." He took Betty's hand, which was balled in her lap. "We did everything we could. The rest is up to her."

She hadn't expected reassurance from Jughead - he wasn't much for false platitudes - but she felt less afraid of her nightmares and the solitude that had been residing in the hollow of her gut. At least they were a 'we' when she was sitting there. "You're right."

Jughead's kept her hand in his, even when he looked over Betty's shoulder to be met by stares that flitted away as they ran across his. "Your friends look pretty confused that we're talking. Or is it the hand holding?" He gave hers a squeeze, almost as if he were teasing.

Betty's lips formed the smallest smile, the amusement of Veronica and Archie reading into their shared body language taking her worry completely away. "To them, any two people touching each other is probably significant since that's all _they_ do."

"And here I thought everyone believed you're the doe-eyed innocent that Keller made you out to be that night."

Against her will, Betty's cheeks pinked. That night, their kiss, his hand against her the bare skin of her back. She may not have lived up to whatever lofty standard of purity people held for her in Riverdale but she wasn't so worldly that such simple acts did not grip something in her. "Everyone believes a lot of things that aren't true. About me, and about you." She looked up from their hands, brave enough now to see the way Jughead looked at her. "You didn't exactly jump into the backseat of that car with me."

The back of his neck began to prickle, Jughead resisting the urge to scratch his nerves into submission. Talking about his motives and feelings when it came to intimacy was the pinnacle of personal discomfort - he'd rather be 11 years old again, getting the sex talk from F.P. - especially considering his identity wasn't rooted in labels. People were attractive and he liked who he liked. He had nothing against intimacy but wasn't about hooking up with just anyone either. What he'd had with Toni stemmed from a longtime friendship, Jughead trusting that what they did happened with confidence but not judgment.

Putting all that into a single title was impossible, as was trying to express it to most people without one. So he normally didn't. Leaving Betty sitting there, looking totally vulnerable, though, felt wrong. Especially when he cared as much as he did about not hurting her. "I guess I didn't want to do it just because we could. Or because we had to save our asses. Not that I'm getting into a ton of back seats, but when I do, it has to matter a little more than that."

"Did it?" Betty couldn't resist knowing. "Mean more than that?"

His gaze drifted away, Jughead not knowing how to be anything other than honest. "Yes."

Satisfied, Betty chose not to push. "To me too."

"Alright." Jughead stood their hands falling away so he could grab his helmet and pass it off to Betty. "Let's get out of here."


	9. Chapter 9

**It's worth noting that I didn't reread/proof this chapter after I finished writing it. So if any part of this chapter make zero sense, that's why.**

 **That being said, enjoy!**

The rounded helmet protected Betty's ears from the cool sting of wind whipping past them. She held tight to Jughead as she had the week prior, though she was not as hesitant as she had been. Riding on the motorcycle, she decided, was slowly growing on her and she could understand why it was his transport of choice when he wasn't working.

When they stopped and climbed off, she was looking at a place too familiar. She had jumped from the water's edge, splitting the murky surface, summer after summer, once even swinging out with the rope after merciless teasing from Archie.

"Sweetwater Swimming Hole." Betty glanced over her shoulder to Jughead, who was settling his bike against the railing of the bridge. "I thought this place was more of a generational secret. Archie's dad told him about it. That's why we always came here."

Jughead stepped up next to her. "Maybe my dad knew his dad then. That's who told me." He inhaled deeply, the stagnant smell of winter run-off making him long for warmer days. "We'll have to come back when we can actually swim."

"Why?" Betty grinned. "So you can see me in a bathing suit?"

Jughead flashed her a wry look before sliding down the incline and seating himself near the edge of concrete retaining wall. "Do I really seem that creepy to you?"

"No," she admitted, easing down next to him. Drawing her knees to her chest, she turned to look at Jughead. "But why _did_ you bring me here?"

"I dunno. I figured it'd put some distance between us and… life. All the chaos. Back at Pop's, you seemed like you needed to get out of your head."

With anyone else, Betty would have snapped into a state of adamant denial. No one could ever see her damage, that creeping darkness. The revelation of _her_ was a weapon, one of mass destruction in the wrong hands.

She nodded, her mind slowly retracing a familiar pattern through his shirt sleeve. Reaching, she fingered the edge of the fabric before inching it toward the tattoo she had seen. "What does this mean?"

"It's complicated."

"It doesn't seem that complicated. Because either you _really_ like snakes a lot or it represents something more."

How could explain this to her without delving into the story of his whole life? Being in a gang always brought judgment from the outside and even if Betty wasn't 'one of them,' knowing him - the real one, the one who was in no way a hero - might spook her. And losing her was the last thing that Jughead wanted. "It's… a pledge. It represents allegiance. Unity." Because _that_ didn't sound like a scary, pseudo cultish answer at all.

"Okay… then to who or what?" She straightened and moved closer, her body turned into his. "Tell me what this makes you."

He saw determination, the kind he only ever saw when their eyes connected. It was purely Betty to be that resolved, that sure. But he also saw an earnesty that told of a someone who just wanted him to know that the parts of himself he struggled with were okay. "Full disclosure?"

Betty nodded, her hand taking his this time.

"I'm a Southside Serpent. I joined when I was sixteen because... my dad? He's their King. That's how I got the car for the breakout and why Sheriff Keller is always on my back. I'm basically a criminal by blood and no lets me forget it."

"That's why hid out on the South Side that night."

Was that all she had? Jughead laughed, the sound one of disbelief, as he drew his hand away from hers. Betty, true to form, was unflappable, and it was ...jarring, yet strangely beautiful. Jughead wondered how she was even real. "Yeah. I knew we'd be safe and hidden."

As his gaze drifted down to the black green surface of the water, he could feel her appraising him. He never cared much how anyone saw him - he was weird, that he knew, and other people avoided him because of it. Caring that she might care, that he might be too much for her, made his throat feel tight and raw. Everything about Betty was beginning to make him feel that way.

Betty was not oblivious to his avoidance, Jughead making the space between them feel almost insurmountable. Was that what he was used to? Distance and solitude. She never saw him with other people and he never talked about his friends or family, though he obviously had both. Was he shielding himself from a world outside of his gang or was he just… alone, even when he was surrounded by people?

The answers, whatever they were, would only come with time.

Scooting in close, Betty laid her head now on his shoulder. Her arm slid through his.

It took everything in Jughead to resist leaning back, letting the weight he felt rest on her. "Is that gonna be a thing we do now? Tell each other all of our screwed up secrets and pretend its normal?"

"Only if you want to."

He scoffed, but the emotion behind it was weak. Every defense he had was coming down and he had no power to stop it. After a silent moment of contrived nonchalance, Jughead took Betty's hand and turned it over to expose red slivers. "I noticed these when we first met."

There was no expectation in Jughead's voice. Betty had pushed him into an admission, and Jughead simply offered to listen. It was endearing, and something she valued more than he would ever know. "We're starting with all of the easy questions, aren't we?"

Jughead half-smiled. "We _did_ break the law together. Everything is old news after that."

"True." Betty relaxed her hand, letting Jughead's cradle it and soothe her fear away. "They're…I can control so little in my life. Especially the expectations other people have of me." Her chin dropped, the embarrassing truth cresting as tears in the corners of her eyes. "I'm supposed to be pure and perfect, every girl next door. God, I hate that word." Her eyes locked on her scars, wondering if they looked ugly to him. Knowing they would to anyone else. "These I can control, even if it means that there's something wrong with me."

It was hard for Jughead to believe anyone could make her feel that way. Then he thought back to the week before and how she'd looked when her plan began to fall apart. She was a scared kid, just like him. Only, she didn't have a gang or anyone she could be certain would back her up.

A deep gratitude towards Sweet Pea and Fangs, Slash and Joaquin - hell, even the thought of his dad - gripped him with slight emotion. The situation wasn't ideal, but they gave him a safe, judgment-free retreat at the end of the day.

Bringing her palm to his lips, he wanted to give Betty something close to that - maybe even better, if he could. "It sounds like there's something wrong with the people around you if you need to hide what it means to be you." His finger nudged her chin, tipping her face towards his again. "I'd rather know _Betty_ than whatever glossy, perfect version other people want."

Looking in his eyes, Betty nearly revealed everything - how she knew Caroline, her webcamming - so that Jughead would know the depth of her imperfection. But the quiet way he folded her hand in his and placed another soft kiss on her lips sealed that secret away for a different day. For now, the truths they had shared would be enough. "Thanks, Juggy."

The silly nickname of his existing nickname would have been shot down if it'd come from anyone else. But she was her and it was like a different kind of promise, just between them. At the very least, he had a friend in her and she did in him. "Not a problem, Betts."


	10. Chapter 10

Betty smiled, waving in Jughead's direction as he peeled away from the curb. His jacket was still wrapped around her, a subtle sign of Jughead's chivalry. She drew her hands into the sleeves, the smell of leather and the owner making her practically giddy. Hiding the coat - and her reaction to having it - would be necessary. It had no mark of gang affiliation, but her mother would find such a thing suspect and would go in search answers. Betty couldn't chance Alice knowing who Jughead was if she wanted to be his friend.

And maybe more… she thought as she climbed the stairs to her room and dropped onto her bed. Was it _truly_ softer than it had been, she wondered. Or did the glow of something new make everything feel like a trip?

Their morning at the swimming hole had turned into burgers at a small stand on the far end of the south side. And all the conversation had turned comfortable and easy with the change of venue. Betty teased Jughead, almost mercilessly, about cheating on Pop as he devoured two burgers only to discover that he hated mustard… but liked her taunts. That's how it seemed to her when his ketchup smudged lips turned into a gesture so completely boyish.

Jughead made the ease of opening up convincing, Betty revealing her own likes - crunchy french fries and Toni Morrison novels - without much provocation. But then, she'd laid out a whole side of herself to Jughead when they'd first met without even knowing it. A side that, for anyone else, would have required an extensive road map of nuanced behavior. Jughead navigated her effortlessly, a novelty that made her let go of worry. With him, she was just a girl whose troubles weren't the whole of her.

Her eyes had just slipped closed when a buzz jolted her phone. She dug around underneath her hip for it, a jagged sharpness hollowing her out when she read the new text.

 **Just getting back from bailing on me and Veronica? Must've been fun.**

Betty sat up and found Achie framed by their bedroom windows. Why was such a familiar sight suddenly chilling?

 **It was what I needed. Just some time to myself.**

She tapped 'send' and watched for any change in his expression. All she could see was him furiously tap at his phone. Anger? More likely, she thought, she was reading misunderstanding bled through by hurt.

 **You weren't by yourself. You were with that kid from Pop's.**

Betty sighed as she told him to come over so they could talk. His agreement forced her out of bed to find a place to stow the jacket so it would not be a focal point in Archie's questioning. She moved over to her desk chair from the closet and waited for Archie to come up since they were years passed knocking.

Up close, Betty could clearly see the accusation in his gaze - at least the distance from his bedroom to hers had blurred his true feelings. He leaned against her door frame, his arms folded defensively in front of him. "Are you going to tell me why you left me and Veronica sitting at Pop's, wondering what the hell was going on?"

Betty clasped her hands together, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. "Like I said, I needed a break."

"We've barely seen you for weeks and every time we do, you're running away from us. Now, you're with this new kid who we don't even know."

"I made a new friend who I like spending time with." A hot rush of anger snapped her spine straight and her muscles taut. "And _I_ know him." She had to cross her arms and clutch her ribs in a hug so her nails wouldn't jab at her palms. "I know he works two jobs, one of them at Pop's. He graduated last year…" She could see Archie's lips form a question about Jughead's alma mater. "...from a different school than ours. I know about his family, his friends." All South Side Serpents from what he had said, with the exception of his mom and sister who lived out of state. He hadn't wanted to say much about that, but Betty still counted it as information she had. "Jughead isn't some mystery to me, Arch. And he could say the same about me. We don't have secrets."

The lie felt heavy in her chest, especially when she could have brushed the corner of her laptop with her fingers. Would there be unanswered chat requests when she opened it? The truth of the answer made the tips of her ears tingle and she felt worse about keeping her other identity from Jughead than about how badly she wished Archie would just accept everything that was happening and go home.

"It's good to be Jughead, then. Because you seem to have them with everyone else."

Archie had never acted so petulant about Betty having a new friend - maybe because she hadn't had many outside of him over the years, and of those, none ever seemed to challenge his place in Betty's life.

"Archie, you and Veronica have been busy with each other." She raised her hand to stop him when he looked ready to object. "Everyone has their own lives. Josie has The Pussycats, Kevin has theater, Cheryl has The Vixens." Not that Betty considered Cheryl Blossom to be a part of her friend group, despite their newly minted status of 'cousins.' But if she could be useful in Betty's defense, Betty would include her in the fold. "I don't understand why me having something of my own is such a terrible thing. It's not like Jughead is replacing anyone." Standing, she reached for both of Archie's wrists. "You'll always be one of my best friends, Arch. No one is going to change that. So please, accept that I have a little more joy in my life now.

Archie was slow to pull away from her, Betty tracking a certain dilemma in his actions. Did he want to trust her, but couldn't move past her evasive behavior nor Jughead's involvement in it? The idea would have choked her with laughter were she not in complete control of her emotions. Archie Andrews, angry at _her_ because _she_ wasn't totally honest about her relationships? She cleared the thought, knowing it wasn't helpful. Instead, she stayed focused on him.

"I think I'm going to go home and just… take all this in."

Betty nodded, Archie's rebuke turning her stomach sour. Maybe time was what he needed, much like she had when he started dating Veronica. It still hurt, she thought as he exited the room without even a good-bye. Maybe that's how he'd felt when he saw her with Jughead. And maybe she needed to understand that to hold onto their friendship, she had to let Archie find his own way.


	11. Chapter 11

The hum of the lights had the strength of a dying bug zapper, and the clack of relic billiard balls snapping against one another was the only true sign of life in the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead sat at the bar, mostly unbothered, sipping on whatever brew Sweet Pea had slid in front of him.

He was tempted to check his phone to see if there was a text from Betty. Messages from her had become part of his routine. They never said anything overly important, mostly just chatter, but he'd never experienced anyone putting forth an effort to glimpse into his life, anyone who wasn't around by default. And, in his more honest moments, he could admit that he actually liked it. Liked being… liked.

That honesty did not extend beyond himself, however, and checking his phone with any frequency would signal to Sweet Pea and Slash that something was up. He wasn't ready to let his Serpent friends in on his new relationship. Betty wasn't something he wanted to share.

The door behind them whooshed and Jughead felt the drifting wet of the afternoon air creep along the back of his neck.

"Jughead?"

Sweet Pea turned first, the stranger raising his hackles. Sweet Pea, Jughead knew, led with his aggression. "Who wants to know?"

Jughead was more observant, less reactionary, as a general rule. The slip of red hair and a Riverdale High letterman jacket jogged Jughead's memory, telling him everything he needed to know about their Northside guest's identity. He leaned back, elbows resting against the bar. "Archie Andrews."

Archie's expression quickly morphed from false bravado to uncertainty. "Yeah."

"Betty talks about you sometimes." Less and less, Jughead had noticed. He wasn't such an egomaniac that he credited himself as her distraction. He also didn't mind the idea of Betty's romantic interest shifting focus towards him.

"Weird. She's never mentioned you."

The questions strung themselves together - how did Archie know Jughead's name, or where to find him, if not for Betty's mention. With the clear advantage, Jughead decided to keep them to himself for the moment. "Maybe you just haven't been listening. Especially since you chose her best friend."

The burn curled Archie's lips, Jughead having broken the ultimate code of talking about _both_ of Archie's supposed women. "What… Veronica has nothing to do with this. I came here about Betty and you and… whatever you guys are."

"Hey, man, I'm not the creeper who's been looking in her bedroom window all my life." A cheap shot, far beneath him. But Jughead silently reveled in smug satisfaction as Archie's jaw clenched. "And I don't do labels. We are what we are and she invited me into that. If she hasn't told you about it, it's on you."

"She's too good for you. For all of... _this_." Disgust stuck to the last word. Was it the live snake in a tank, seductively tracing the glass of it's enclosure? The crackle of spilled beer meeting each step? Or was it the general assumption that Serpents were criminals, petty thieves with loose morals at best, that bothered Archie Andrews so much?

"No one is going to debate you on that. But you don't make her choices for her, just like I don't. If she wants me around, then no one can tell her otherwise. And I like being around, so I'm definitely not going to be the one who tries." Jughead slid off the stool and passed Archie to get to the pool cues hanging on the wall. He had next game.

"What about doing the right thing? I mean, if you really cared, you'd know she's not this kind of girl."

Jughead never favored supposition, and Betty's nature wasn't a topic he was going to debate. "Betty's Betty. I care enough to let her be whoever she is going to be." Even if the idea of her trying to squeeze herself into the role of a lady Serpent made him his stomach churn, especially when he spied the dulled dancer's pole adorning a corner of the bar's stage. The 'dance' wasn't what he would choose for her, but as he'd told Archie, her choices were hers.

"Even if it's dangerous?"

Jughead chalked his cue, chuckling to himself as he did. Did this kid know Betty at all? She had instigated more unlawful adventures that involved Jughead than he had ever managed to concoct on his own. ' _Trouble, thy name is Betty Cooper_ ' could have replaced his snake tattoo with accuracy. But then... the whole reason for that was so people like Archie wouldn't know, or couldn't be trusted. Her truth was more precious than her secrets and Betty held tightly to both.

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" With a flick of his wrist, he tossed another cue to Sweet Pea, who nudged Archie's shoulder harder than he needed to as he walked around the table. "We ride our bikes and drink beers. Sometimes things get a little rowdy but it mostly breaks itself up after some shoving." Jughead set the rack on the table and began to process of centering the balls. "Betty's never even been here and I doubt she's going to make it her Friday night hangout since listening to bikers regale her with the same ten stories about 'the old days' probably isn't her idea of fun."

Archie was stumped for a comeback, which was no surprise to Jughead, and he lapsed into silence. Maybe he realized that there were no sides to take, no argument to have.

"And when she gets hurt? What then?"

Jughead broke the rack, sending balls shooting in every direction but didn't notice when an orange-striped ball tumbled into the corner pocket. He stood staring at the tables' edge, the cue planted on the floor, holding his weight. "She already got hurt. By you and the way you didn't tell her about the thing with her friend. I was there the day she found about you guys. I saw her suck it up and accept what it was when, on the inside, it was killing her. Because you've been around all her life and she cares about you." Jughead looked up at Archie, an anger blossoming in his chest as he set the cue down on the table. "It should've been you telling her, not some girl she's known for half a minute. Instead you come into _my_ house to thrust your toxic masculinity around like Betty is some prize you lost, and you're going to accuse me of hurting her?" Jughead stepped close, his face inches from Archie's as he spit the last words. "You're not some all-consuming, white knight to her anymore. So get over it, and get lost."

Archie's hands flew at Jughead's chest, the shove sending the dark-haired boy two steps back. "I'm not messing around, man. You need to back off her."

Sweet Pea was the one who charged, breaking Jughead's fall his only obstacle. The room seemed to sway with the rise of other Serpents circling Archie. As satisfying as it might be to see Archie Andrews put in his place, Jughead knew that an all-out brawl and a bloodied up kid from the North Side would cause a swarm of law enforcement. At the Wyrm, in the neighborhood. Nowhere would be safe for them. And as dull as he tried to make Serpent life sound, Jughead had no idea what his father had going on behind closed doors. Beating Archie down just wasn't worth it.

"Everyone stand down!" Jughead shouted, then turned to Archie. "Get the hell out of here."

A righteous glare fell on Jughead one last time before Archie relented. "We're not done." Jughead offered no reply as he watched Archie retreat slowly, his back only turning once he was at the door.

As everyone settled, and Jughead felt his pulse slow. He was met with Sweet Pea and Slash, their eyes squarely trained on him. There was confusion, their questions all pointing to 'what had brought this kid to the South Side.'

 _So much for the secret of Betty_ , he thought as he sat down and called for more drinks.


	12. Chapter 12

Betty sat in the quiet of the student lounge. It was early, the school day still 20 minutes from its start, but she anticipated the arrival of her friends.

They would organize themselves clockwise, Kevin settling into the chair to her left, Veronica and Archie cuddling up on the worn sofa across from her. She picked at the vinyl seat beneath her - her mother had likely sat on this same chair when she went to Riverdale High School. Not that Alice Cooper, then Smith, had been the same kind of girl she expected Betty to be. Smart, beautiful. Perfect. It was like the archetype of her maternal desire had seeped into the water, poisoning nearly everyone's perception.

Was that why Archie had done it?

Betty had asked herself the same questions over and over from the time she received Jughead's text to now. Was she just too delicate and uncorrupted in his eyes to care about someone who… wasn't? Was it even about her, she'd wondered, or was Archie staking a claim for himself? No one could have Betty's attention, her affection, because it'd been his for as long as either of them could remember.

She hated thinking of her best friend that way. She hated not knowing him innately. She hated that their friendship had changed so much yet he was refusing to let her change along with it. She hated him trying to put her in the same box everyone did.

Betty's hands began to tense, her body driving for a control that eluded her mind. But she closed her eyes, imagined her head on Jughead's shoulder at the swimming hole, his fingers soothing her scars. His laugh, his lips. Everything about him calmed everything in her.

She was nearly serene when she heard Archie's voice as he entered room, her eyes opening to find his squarely on her. Her face revealed what she knew, his revealed that he saw anger.

Standing, she moved to separate him from Veronica and Kevin. "What were you thinking? Were you _trying_ to hurt me? After I told you that he mattered to me."

The others swarmed, the raised pitch of her voice drawing them close. It also seemed to box Archie in, his eyes skittering to the faces behind her.

"I had to make sure you were going to be safe, Betty. And from what I saw, you won't be. I couldn't just…"

"Wait, who's 'he?' " Kevin chimed in.

Veronica squeezed his forearm, her voice barely registering above a whisper. "Probably Jughead."

"Jughead _Jones_?" Kevin said the name with an accusatory familiarity. "Is that why you were asking all those questions about him, Archie?"

Betty turned her head, her eyes falling on Kevin. "He brought you into this?" Her fury was directed at Archie once more. "Is there anyone you didn't tell?"

"Betty, I…"

"No, really, Arch. Why not just take out a full page ad in the Blue and Gold to announce that, yes, Betty Cooper has a friend who lives on the south side who everyone thinks is some kind of dangerous criminal. You would've saved yourself some time."

Veronica stepped away from Kevin, this time touching Betty's arm gently. "He was just concerned, Betty. We all were. And from what Kevin's said, we had every right to be. I mean, he's in a gang and his father has been practically running the south side for years."

"Oh, please, Veronica. You're father is the biggest mobster that's ever lived in Riverdale. Does that mean that you're dangerous? Should I be worried about Kevin for being your friend or Archie for dating you?"

Betty read the clear impression left on Veronica's face as hurt, and she felt simultaneously guilty and righteous. The soft spot Veronica had for her father was understandable but also didn't make Betty's testament of his character wrong. The fact that she said it out loud, however, wasn't her proudest moment.

"That was really out of line," Archie piped in, his arm wrapping protectively around Veronica.

"Maybe, but it's the truth. Veronica isn't dangerous because of her family and neither is Jughead." Betty picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "You don't get to police my life whenever my friends or feelings don't suit you. Learn to be okay with my choices or… you won't have a place in it."

The hallway was beginning to fill, people cascading through doorways before the first bell of the day rang. Betty moved in the breaks and gaps, resisting the urge to push through and escape. She couldn't leave school - her mother would inevitably find out, and that would be the end of her freedom - but she could hide in the library, independent study a reasonable excuse for missing class. Her 'Betty Cooper, good girl' persona did have its advantages, however exhausting the consequences sometimes were. Absolute trust with her academic schedule was one of them, Principal Weatherby treating her as if she had a kind of self-awareness he wished other students possessed.

How little he knew, she mused as she waved at the school's librarian then pointed to a study station. The woman's curly head bobbed, her acknowledgement of Betty's presence the only evidence anyone would require that Betty had made good choices.

The cubicle was shielded from the rest of library space by a wall and Betty popped her laptop open once she was settled. As expected, there was a chat request staring at her from the screen, the blinking green dot waiting for response. She hadn't paid much attention to the few that had come in over the past few weeks - not since she had made her connection with Jughead.

But Jughead wasn't there now and the autonomy to be some other version of herself crepted along her fraying edges.

Her finger hovered over the trackpad, the cursor settled on the 'accept' option of the chat. Part of her wondered what it was that her online cohort did - or didn't do - that allowed him to be on his computer at all hours of the day and night. She'd only ever considered being worried about it once, maybe twice, because worrying suggested something deeper between her and a stranger. It was almost ridiculous how her friends worried about something as harmless as her befriending a Southside Serpent, yet her she was, webcamming with a guy who she knew little to nothing about. She couldn't decide if she was the bigger idiot for doing it, or if they were for not seeing the reality in front of them.

Betty sighed, her defiance waning in the quiet solitude surrounding her. Flicking the arrow from the chat window, she pulled up her email.

The first message was from an address she didn't recognize and she almost trashed it as spam when the subject line caught her eye.

 ** _I am no bird; and no net ensnares me._**

A sudden, happy tear snuck from the corner of Betty's eye and she immediately texted Jughead.


	13. Chapter 13

**It's worth noting that I didn't reread/proof this chapter after I finished writing it. So if any part of this chapter make zero sense, that's why.**

 **That being said, enjoy!**

* * *

"It's a quote." Jughead handed Betty's phone back to her, a neutral expression disguising his confusion.

He had been in the middle of job driving some northside kid to the southside. Based on the final destination - an especially tragic looking trailer park - Jughead figured he was an accomplice to a low level drug deal but overlooked it because he really needed the money. He'd just kicked the high idiot out of his truck when his phone chirped with her message.

 _Meet at the library. Urgent._

'Urgent' had pushed the truck into high gear, Jughead worrying that something had happened or she was somehow in trouble. The bright excitement over this phantom email that met him near the library's front doors had muddled his understanding of the situation.

"From Jane Eyre." Betty looked at him expectantly.

"Okay…"

"Caroline has a tattoo that says that on her rib cage."

Jughead took a moment to parse his memory of the night of the breakout. Caroline had bared her torso long enough that Jughead would have seen a tattoo had he been looking. But he hadn't, so the ink didn't stand out to him. What did was how Betty might've known about it. Sure, she'd put herself on the line for Caroline, but he had done the same for Betty and they'd barely been friends at the time. Were the girls really _that_ close? "I never asked and you can tell me to butt out if you want but... how do you know Caroline?"

"We met online. One of those random forums where you talk about how disenchanting your family can be." Another half-truth, she thought. They had become her specialty. And with anyone else, she felt justified in shielding herself. With Jughead, she hated it. "I had just found out some secrets my mom was keeping and her parents were suspicious of her sexuality." Betty paused, remembering Caroline's revelation and how it'd been a gateway to Betty's own sexual awakening via webcam. Not with Caroline, exactly - she'd shown Betty all the ways to use her body for enjoyment, but it was strictly educational. That was when Betty had seen the tattoo.

"Is that how she ended up with the Sisters? Because of who she was into?"

And other things, Betty knew but offered a simple nod in response. "She was strong but… that place was slowly destroying her." But it hadn't. Caroline was free, and her email meant she was safe, somewhere. All Betty had to do was wait for another message, another email. "We did the right thing."

Jughead had only questioned the ramifications of his involvement with the plan, never the rightness of the whole idea. Nor of Betty's character for executing it. "Trying to convince yourself?"

She looked up from her phone. Did her tone always give her away, or was it him and his intuition that revealed her thoughts? "Maybe a little."

"I get it. Especially when it took her so long to get in touch with you. The thing is…" He reached for the phone and set it aside so he could hold her hands. "If I had been locked up in that hellhole, knowing that I had someone who cared enough to get me out would've got me to my endgame." His lips brushed her knuckles. "You're a good friend, Betts."

Betty smiled, whether at his assertion or his comforting gesture, she wasn't sure. It didn't matter. So little seemed to when they were together. "I don't know that Archie and Veronica would agree with you. I confronted Archie this morning about what he did to you and called Veronica's beloved 'daddy' a thug."

Jughead whistled. "When you burn bridges, you really burn them." When her face fell, he changed his tactics, his palm moving to cradle her cheek. "Hey. I was kidding. You and Archie have been friends all your lives. It'll blow over."

"It doesn't seem like it. Not as long as…"

Jughead quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"As long as we're...I don't know…" For the first time in a while, Betty felt completely uncomfortable and nervous in Jughead's presence. "I mean, I know you don't like labels but… when I think about you..." Her cheeks pinked. "Well, I think about kissing you a lot."

"Oh yeah?" Jughead grinned. His thumb traced her bottom lip. "Are you thinking about it now? Because I can help with that."

Betty's head dipped, her smile barely hidden. "Jug. I'm trying to be serious."

Jughead, normally not prone to flirting, had resorted to it with the express purpose of avoiding 'serious.' Because she was right about him and labels. Especially when it came to the two of them. What they had, he liked. And he could handle a rogue best friend for her. Would take the rap for her in a sticky situation. Did a title change that? Never really having had a traditional relationship made him ignorant of the rules.

What he couldn't ignore was that strange new thing she made him feel. The rest of his life was hiding amidst a crowd. He was never really autonomous, never really _him._ But with Betty, he was something close to normal. As normal as he could be, anyway, and he didn't hate the feeling nor the freedom to do and say all the things that would get him laughed out of the Wyrm.

Betty was like that one song he sang at the top of his lungs with the windows rolled down, the gas pressed to the floor. His heart raced and his mind slowed and the whole world was his, even when they were just sitting in the artificial cold of the library.

Was there even a label for that?

Jughead sighed, wondering if she would ever understand how important she was to him. How much more she meant than a simple word like 'girlfriend.' Effort was all he had to offer. Maybe it would be enough. "Do you want me to be completely cheesy and ask you to be the Bonnie to my Clyde? Cus I will, but only for you."

Betty's laugh was light, her heart touched. "I just want to be able to say that we're together. To hold your hand and kiss you at Pop's without anyone wondering why."

"I can be cool with that but…" His face finally took on the seriousness she'd asked for. "Am I going to have to meet you mom? She sounds kind of…intense and scary. Even Pop Tate told me to be careful around her and he never says things like that."

Betty's lips pursed in a way dashed any concentration Jughead could manage. "Eventually. But maybe I meet your friends first? Or you dad. And you officially meet mine. We can work up to my mom."

He nodded slowly. "I can live with that. Just one condition."

Betty tilted her head, relieved that Alice Cooper's reputation hadn't scared him off completely. "And that is?"

Jughead leaned in, his hands falling to her thighs. "C'mere."


	14. Chapter 14

Betty stood underneath the marquee of the Bijou, hands folded around the handle of her umbrella.

Her mother had voiced mild suspicion when Betty had come down the stairs dressed in soft colors, her signature ponytail traded in for loose waves sweeping her shoulders. Betty had navigated Alice's questions, which always sounded like accusations, with a practiced expertise. She was meeting Kevin at seven-thirty – of all of her friends, Alice found Kevin to be the _least_ objectionable – to catch the Friday Night Classic the Bijou played weekly. Tonight they would be partaking in _On the Waterfront_ , then a burger and milkshake at Pop's before curfew.

Alice's approval came with the stipulation that Betty call after the movie to check in. Betty gave just enough pause to make her response of 'fine,' seem genuinely, but not belligerently, irritated.

Now she waited for Jughead, who had just finished a shift at Pop's and was on his way to meet her for their first official date.

Betty had been surprised when he brought it up the week before. Sneaking around in his truck and kissing for hours hadn't raised any complaints from her. He was showing her the South Side, each new location opening her eyes to a side of Riverdale she'd only ever heard about. And, yes, some of the rumors and assumptions proved true. Parks were bare of trees and rusty trailers dotted the landscape. Most of the gossip, though, turned out to be lowkey propaganda in her opinion.

They had just broken apart, Betty's breath coming in short bursts as she fell back against the worn upholstery of his passenger's seat, when she caught him staring at her. He fumbled his words at first, but when he said he wanted to take her out, on 'a real date,' she knew that a goofy smile overtook her whole face.

She was trying to hide it now, the memory have a similar effect, as light drops of rain tapped on her cover.

"Look at you. All dressed up for some South Side hooligan."

With her turn, the light from the marquee cast a pale glow around Betty, Jughead feeling like he'd entered a glossy dream he'd never thought to have. She was beautiful, damn near perfect on top of everything else. Hearing it would agitate her - she _hated_ being called perfect - so he kept the words from his lips, but he'd never be able to conceal his feelings completely. He was in completely awe of her and it his one true weakness.

"He's hardly a 'hooligan.'" She moved toward him, her lips drawn to his in a sweet kiss. "He actually cleans up nicely."

Jughead was the less than enthusiastic owner of exactly one 'nice' sweater, the uniform of weddings, funerals, and the last family holiday the Jones' celebrated before his mom left. It was hot, and itchy, and drew forth bad memories like antivenom. In the wake of Betty's smile, though, these were momentary inconveniences. "I can't show up in just anything to take out Betty Cooper." He nudged her chin and kissed again her before taking her umbrella.

The lobby was quiet, a few other people their age milling amidst an older crowd. Jughead kept his arm around Betty as they waited in line for tickets, then snacks. She was a traditional popcorn and soda kind of girl, a quality that Jughead strangely appreciated.

"We're that way," he offered as he gathered the refreshments from the counter.

Betty had swiped a handful of napkins and made to move back to Jughead when she nearly collided with...

"Kevin?"

Kevin Keller stood in front of her, his skin paling as he realized who she was with.

"Betty."

"Jughead." Jughead placed a hand on his chest, trying to ease the obvious tension between Betty and her friend. "Jones. I know you're dad, man. Nice to meet you." His hand reached out in offering.

At first, Kevin could not shake himself enough to receive the gesture. It read as judgment to Betty and the anger in her eyes flared. A lashing nearly burst from her lips when a slick looking young man stepped up to the group, his attention drifted from Kevin to Jughead. "Hey…"

"Joaquin?" The word piped from Jughead before his brain could comprehend the situation before him. He normally didn't make assumptions about the personal lives of fellow Serpents. But seeing the way Kevin had leaned slightly away from Joaquin when he approached told Jughead that 'date night' was going to take an unpleasant turn for everyone.

Betty scanned the boys surrounding her, confused. "Joaquin… wait, do you know each other?"

Jughead nodded, searching for the answer that might spare them all from any possible fallout. "Yeah. We… went to school together."

His fail was evident when he saw the way that Betty was looking at this new stranger. She was just too damn observant for her own good. Any other time, the way she could piece together mystery was a turn-on to Jughead. But he saw a hurt in her expression that made his chest tighten.

"He's a Serpent." Betty barked out a peel of laughter so harsh it could strip steel. "Oh this is _too_ good. You're dating a Serpent."

Joaquin piped in. "Uhm, I wouldn't call it dating. We just… hangout sometimes." He looked to Jughead for an assist but all Jughead could do was shrug, as if to say 'it's not our fight.'

"Oh fine." Betty spit. "Hanging out, hooking up, whatever." Her eyes brimmed with tears as her attention turned back to Kevin. "You told Archie and Veronica a bunch of recycled garbage your dad told you about Jughead, then stood there, part of that half-baked intervention, judging me for spending time with him. And all the while you're 'hanging out' with a Serpent?"

"Betty, it wasn't like that. It…"

"It doesn't matter, Kevin." She folded her arms over her chest, a stance equally protective and vulnerable. It was defeat, Jughead thought, and it didn't suit her. "All you had to do was say nothing to them. Or something to me first. Instead, you went by behind my back. I thought you were better than that. I guess I was wrong."

Shoving past a stricken looking Kevin, Betty bolted for the ladies' room. Jughead gave her a head start, knowing she'd need to process before she would talk to him. "Good times, huh, guys."

Joaquin's hands were deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I think we should take off." He elbowed Kevin and nodded to Jughead. "See ya around."

Jughead clapped his shoulder, an indication that everything was fine between them. He was tempted to tell Joaquin to leash Kevin from now on but he didn't want to be unnecessarily ugly, especially not on Betty's account. Kevin was her battle and no amount of him wanting to protect her from another wounded friendship would change that.

He turned his focus, approaching the restroom and knocking gently. "Betts, can I come in?"

After a minute, the door peeked open. Betty was sitting on the tiled floor next to one of the two stalls.

The floor was cold, unwelcoming. How many sad, broken girls had sat there just like she was, he wondered. Had any of them found solace in that desolate place? Had any of them had someone who would care enough to find them?

Jughead slid down next to her, his head tilting towards Betty after a few minutes of silence. "I know you're not 'alright,' so I won't ask. But if you wanna, ya know, talk or something..."

Her shoulders were hunched and she stared down at her fidgeting fingers. She tried so hard not to claw at her own hands anymore, letting go of the comfort that came with the pain. The effort drained her nearly as much as the fight she'd just had with another of her best friends. "I feel like I am being torn in every different direction by people who are supposed to have my back." Her sleeve swiped at her cheek, a watery black smudge staining the pale pink of her sweater.

Guilt wasn't an emotion that Jughead often experienced, the people in his life giving him little to feel guilty about. Not even his old man made Jughead feel like he was ruining lives. Hearing that he was laying waste to her social circle, even if he hadn't meant to, did. And it burned through the whole of him, Jughead hating that he could even do anything so devastating to someone who only brought good to his life. "People who care about you shouldn't put you in that position." Including me, he thought. He just wasn't brave enough to say it, afraid that she would see the truth laid in front of her so plainly and expect him to have follow through.

"If the roles were reversed, I would have been happy for Kevin. It's been hard on him, trying to find someone in this town he might actually like him back."

"Not to play devil's advocate but… you're saying that Joaquin being a Serpent wouldn't worry you a little?"

Betty remained silent, a surprise to Jughead who expected a strike. She wasn't unreasonable but she was hurt, and something in her seemed to turn quickly when she was exposed that way. "Maybe I would be worried, even if I don't want to think I would. But I'd have talked to Kevin, not ambushed him with other friends. That's the part that really hurts. With everything he knew, he let the mob mentality take hold and trusted all the hearsay and not… me."

"That's a big mistake on his part. There's nobody more trustworthy than you. Or more loyal." Cautiously, he slid his arm around her.

Betty drew into the warmth of his scratchy sweater and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "Why can't everyone see what you do?"

"I don't get how they don't see the simple things about you. Like how important they are to you and how much you'd do for them."

Quiet closed around them again, and Jughead felt the tension start to bleed off her.

"We're missing the movie," she finally said.

Jughead shook his head, his expression reflecting lazy amusement when he finally looked down to her. "Do you really care about the movie?"

"I care that our first date has turned into a bit of a train wreck." Her fingers worried at a stitch near her cheek before she looked up at him. "But, I honestly just want to forget about everything."

Jughead straightened. "Then let's grab some food then chill in my hideout and play some cards or Scrabble by candlelight. But, fair warning. I _never_ lose so..." He stood and offered his hand to her. "Are you game?"

Betty considered his hand, reassured by Jughead's willingness to ignore that everyone in her life seemed averse to him. "Okay." She climbed to her feet with his help then linked her arm with his.


	15. Chapter 15

Jughead slouched at a picnic table, his arms spread eagle across the tabletop surface. He tipped his face toward the sun, exhaustion weighting his eyelids. Being the official designated driver for the Wyrm's sloppy Saturday night crew was a pain. Having to be up before 8 a.m. the next morning because of this lackluster role was pure torture. The only thing that had driven him out of bed was making things right for Betty.

The near catastrophe that had been their first date weighed heavily on Jughead despite Betty claiming the whole incident was 'no big deal.' He was tired of people making her feel like her heart was wrong because of who she let into it. If her friends wanted a target for all of their righteous indignation, Jughead could wear the live action bullseye. Or, maybe, if they were willing to be a little open-minded, he could find some common ground with them. Pragmatism left him wary of that outcome, but he wasn't ruling anything out. He was willing to be a team player in this one instance, for this one important person, if it meant a kind of harmony in her world.

Working with Joaquin, the most direct link to her crew via Kevin Keller, Jughead had managed to set up a time and place to meet and talk with them. Suggesting an abandoned Southside park had been a tough sell, and Jughead understood why. The landscape surrounding him was desolate, the playground slide long ago rusted into disuse and questionable litter dotted the sand surrounding its base. The only other people who hung around here were bored Ghoulies, a rival gang to the Serpents, and sad junkies looking to score from said Ghoulies. But it was close to home, and it was a reality that was comfortable for Jughead. If he was going to take on the task of staying cool in the face of judgmental strangers, location would be his upper hand.

He had nearly nodded off, his cheeks beginning to warm under the glare of morning, when the rustle of approaching steps jerked his head up. A cartoonish spray of Riverdale High prom royalty stood before him, Veronica Lodge front and center in black pumps that he figured were expensive. He nearly smiled at her Alpha status in that group, but he wasn't giving anything away unnecessarily. Advantages, if she was looking for one, had to be earned.

"You guys showed. Color me surprised." He waved his arm at the vacant table. "Want to sit?"

Archie and Kevin looked at each other but Veronica didn't hesitate in taking the seat across from Jughead, forcing him to turn his back to everything that wasn't her. "You were pretty rude to me when we first met. Care to change that?"

Rude was an overestimation of his behavior that day at Pop's, but Veronica was used to commanding a room with ease and the semantics of her long wounded ego wasn't going to be the landmine that tripped Jughead. "Maybe. If it's going to help my chances here." He offered Archie and Kevin both a quick glance, acknowledging that they were there at all.

Veronica's perfectly groomed eyebrow arched, her expression giving nothing away. "I'd always prefer that my friend be dating a gentleman."

Jughead didn't buy the idea of someone like Veronica - whose own New York reputation, he'd learned, rivaled her father's - held much stock in traditional gender roles. Defining how a guy should treat her best friend, he imagined, had nothing to do with holding doors and pulling out chairs. "Fair enough." He held out his hand, offering it as an olive branch. "Jughead Jones. I was a jerk the first time we met. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Veronica's grip was strong, her gaze appraising. She was definitely sizing him up, which Jughead let her do with ease. It meant a chance from her, especially if she was trying to see him through Betty's eyes, trying to be the kind of friend she'd asked Betty to be when it came to her dating Archie. "I guess we shall see."

Jughead drew back first, knowing that's what she wanted. It was a small concession he was more than willing to make. "Look, I didn't get you guys out here this morning so we could all be pals or anything." His periphery was subtly assaulted by Kevin's nervous, skittering side-eye, like a boogeyman was taking up residence at the park's east field. "But Betty shouldn't have to be in the middle of some messed up 'us versus them' scenario. We need to learn to co-exist before we tear her apart trying to please everyone."

"Or you could just back off," Archie offered, his arms folded tightly over his broad chest.

Jughead cocked his head, his question steeped in earnesty. "Do you think that's what she really wants?" He'd spent so much of his time trying to answer that very question for himself. He knew what he wanted it to be - of course she didn't want a life without him in it - but he knew that was a reflection of his own feelings.

Archie's silence prompted Kevin to speak up. "Betty being hurt is the last thing any of us wants."

Each of them contributed a slight nod of acknowledgment circled. 

Jughead placed his clasped hands in front of him, prepared. "Then fire away. Ask or say what you want or what you need to know to feel okay with me. Nothing's off limits. Just... don't make it weird."

The troupe wasted no time. Jughead fielded questions about juvie, drugs and dealing, and his personal life - 'never been,' 'don't do either,' and 'one kinda girlfriend who was more friend before Betty' being his respective answers. He explained how him giving her a ride was their 'meet cute' while protecting any information about Caroline and Betty's friendship. He lived with his dad in Sunny Side trailer park, he'd graduated from Southside High the year before, and Pop Tate was the best man he'd ever known, hands down. Jughead was a standard guy, by his own estimation, who lived a standard life.

"Except you're a Serpent. And that's bad news by default."

In a moment of amused hyperbole, Jughead considered whether or not Archie Andrews was meant to be his arch nemesis. But he couldn't deny that the kid had something resembling a point. "Okay...yeah. I'm in a biker gang and some of the guys do stuff I'm not down with. But I'm not a criminal." Jughead's gaze lasered Kevin, the sweet-faced Sheriff's son looking almost ashamed of any assumptions he'd made about Jughead. "No matter what the sheriff's department thinks, I don't go out of my way to break the law or hurt anyone."

"But the people around you aren't as worried about that stuff," said Archie, Jughead hearing something other than argumentative bluster in his voice. Archie and Jughead, despite their differences, both cared about the same thing - Betty's safety. Had Jughead not been so defensive of Archie treading hard on his territory that day at the Wyrm, maybe he would have realized their commonality sooner.

"Some of them aren't. But a lot of them are just trying to figure out how to get tomorrow and feed their families." His eyes never left Archie's. "I think we all know people like that. Or people who skirt the line when it comes to right and wrong. It doesn't make us bad people for knowing them."

Veronica's dark eyes fell on the tabletop. His point was the same one Betty had attempted to make to all of them before, only Jughead managed to do it more eloquently. She reached to touch Archie's arm, the gesture causing him to draw her into his side. "No, it doesn't."

"True." Kevin, too, seemed to contemplate Jughead's words as a truth he'd never before understood. "Being good and being innocent aren't the same thing."

"You guys don't have to trust or believe anything I say. But trust Betty, and that whatever she sees in me is as good as anything she might've seen in any of you guys. She wouldn't be wasting her time if there was nothing here."

"She's definitely not one to suffer fools," chirped Veronica, her smooth smile easing the impossible tension of the moment. Each of the boys, Jughead included, mimicked her gesture. Like her or not, Jughead couldn't deny how impressive Veronica was.

"Alright." Veronica looked to Archie and Kevin, then at Jughead. "We'll go along with this whole ceasefire. For Betty."

The others agreed, Jughead relieved that a kind of peace had been brokered. "Sounds good." He offered his hand again, this time to Archie. The redheaded boy took it, their shake slow and deliberate. Jughead knew the gesture, and the promise it represented, came with conditions but that hardly mattered when, at the end of the day, Betty was their focus. Jughead saw easy work in making life happy and safe for her.

Once they departed the park, Jughead jogged back to his truck, ready to be home and napping. He paused just long enough to watch a sleek, black town car navigate the narrow streets that surrounded the park before bursting back toward the Northside.


	16. Chapter 16

Betty laid on her bed, earbuds in and the soft roll of her playlist lulling her in a bluesy daze. She was alone in the house, Alice having left that morning for an out-of-town journalism workshop. Or so she'd told Betty. Her mother's life, she'd recently learned, was steeped in secret histories and built on tremendously flimsy lies. Reputation and appearances were incredibly important to Alice, perfection being an unrealistic standard that she applied to all aspects of life. And not just her own. Home was like a silent battlefield, Betty often striking out with nothing more than glares and the occasional glib retort. Still, she played her part.

Straight A's, the school newspaper, National Honor Society. Betty was on track to be her mother's crowning achievement. She had to be medicated to do it but pills were the price she paid for some semblance of personal freedom.

In her mother's absence, the entire atmosphere changed. Betty tossed aside the pressures of idyllic and ate whole sleeves of Oreos in bed, wore bright shades of red lipstick for no reason, and procrastinated on homework until the morning an assignment was due. They were small pleasures, but they made Betty feel in control of her life. Even if it was just for a weekend at a time, she was allowed to be a normal teenager, who did normal teenage things without the burden of filling some imaginary potential her mother only associated with order.

She was halfway to sleep when a sharp rap at her window startled her. The delicate white of the curtain obscured a dark shape.

Standing after a moment of debate with herself, she drew the material back.

Jughead.

"Hey there, Juliet. Still mad at me?"

A part of Betty was convinced that she should be - he'd gone behind her back, after all. Even if his intentions were good, she wanted ownership of her feelings and how she dealt with them. Jughead intervening with Veronica, Archie, and Kevin, and not telling her until after, took that away from her and she'd told him as much. He'd apologized for the secrecy but stood by the rest of his actions, which had turned into a fight.

Now he was suspended near her window - by what was likely a rickety ladder - his legs probably growing tired while she considered him. "Maybe. But you can't hang out there all day." She pushed the window open wide, Jughead crawling through as she held the sill.

When he straightened, they stood across from one another, staring.

"I thought about what you said. About not needing me to save you. And I get it. You hold your own pretty well without much help." Jughead stepped closer, the tight feeling in his stomach unraveling when Betty didn't retreat. "I hated seeing you so upset in the movie theater. It was like that night with Caroline and how lost you seemed after you came out of the woods. Something in me snaps to action when you seem like your in trouble. I just want to have an answer that'll make things better." He shoved his beanie off, his hands tugging hard at his messy locks. "I said it before, I shouldn't have got in your business or made it about me. But I'd be lying if I said I'm going to stand by while you're being hurt."

Sighing, Betty's rigid posture slackened and she dropped into the window seat. "The more you talk, the more I feel like some crazy bitch who doesn't appreciate you." Which was so far from the truth. The other part of her, the rational one, had been near elated that he'd sorted the whole situation out. That the drama was resolved, all because he faced it head on and dismantled her friends prejudices. For her, because he cared.

"Wow." He sat down across from her, their knees brushing as he did. "I don't think anyone's ever accused me of talking too much. Usually, it's the other way around."

His smile slanted slightly higher on the right, creating a dimple that Betty found irresistible. "It's not funny, Juggy." The words put all of her weakness on display, Betty half wanting for him to touch her face, or hold her hand, and make her completely forget her principles.

"You're right." He leaned in a little, his expression turning serious.

Her palms ground together, another diversion method she'd developed to keep her fists unclenched, her skin uncut. "Just… don't shut me out of decisions about my life. I have enough people doing that and I don't want you to be one of them."

"No more sneaking around to fulfill whatever weird super hero complex is lurking inside me." He reached out, his fingers knitting safely through hers. "Next time, we handle it together, as a team. Alright?"

This time she smiled. 'Together,' with Jughead, she'd realized, was one of the things she wanted most in life. "Okay."

Jughead took an opportunity to reconcile their dispute with a kiss. Betty quickly turned it turned into something more persistent, moving to straddle his lap - her "truck trick." Like always, his arm drew around her waist, holding her tightly to him. Like always, her lips parted easily, a soft sound passing between them.

Her skin slipped under her fingertips as they moved along her side. Warmth prickled low in belly, her cheeks flushing a bright pink as her shirt dropped to the floor. Their bodies never spared more than an inch between them, not even when she tugged at his shirt. His teeth marked her collarbone and her mind ventured back to that night in a 'borrowed' car on an abandoned road.

Their first actual kiss.

It happened in a minute, without a second thought, and rooted itself as something permanent. Everything between them since then had been nothing short of real. Painfully so, at times, but true all the same. It was messy and vulnerable, and so foreign to Betty, yet innately human in its ease. He showed her everything, let her be anything.

"Wait." Betty pulled back and cradled his face in both hands. The color in her eyes went glossy. She'd never expected to need what they were, what he made her feel. But now looking at him, knowing that she had it, Betty knew she could never go back to a time before him.

"What?" he asked, breathless and unsure. Was he moving too fast? Was she… not enjoying what they were doing? Jughead rarely questioned their relationship or his role in it. Intimacy, however, had always been his Achilles' heel. It felt good, and right, especially with Betty, but it far from made sense to him most of the time. And if she was unsure too? Then they were in real trouble.

"Nothing. I just… I'm falling in love with you, Jughead Jones." Her forehead touched his, a gentle connection. "I thought you should know."

Jughead's chest felt heavy, the air neither coming nor going. Love? Was that what this was? He'd never really had a great example of it in his life - not from his parents, not in his own relationships. Loyalty, camaraderie, those things were easy. But love… he didn't know of a way to gauge it.

And, yet, when he looked back at her, he saw every answer to his questions. The absolute certainty, everything true and important about them laid out for him to see. With Betty, there was no hiding, no shrouding herself in mysterious grandiosity like her friend Veronica. Simplicity reigned the way she opened up to him, the way he could reciprocate. The very moments that made him feel human were the ones that drew Betty closer to him, and if the way she made him feel wasn't love, then he was pretty sure nothing else was.

His fingers toyed with stray tendrils falling around her face and his. "In that case, I love you back, Betty Cooper. Who knows. I maybe even loved you first. Might love you always."

Carefully, Jughead lifted her into his arms, carrying across the room where they fell back onto her bed. Their hands, their lips, their bodies all touched in a sweep of ecstatic newness, the words sounding somehow different as they echoed against her walls.


	17. Chapter 17

Betty rolled over, the jarring jangle coming from her night table waking her. She grabbed for her phone and muted the so it wouldn't wake Jughead too. The fact that he was asleep in her bed didn't seem like her life, yet there he was. The window he'd entered through was still open a crack leaving the room with the chill of evening rain. Betty snatched up his shirt from the floor and scuttled into the bathroom.

It was too late for her mother to be calling, but she wasn't going to chance having to concoct a convincing lie about why she hadn't answered. Sleep, she knew, would not be an acceptable excuse in Alice Cooper's eyes.

"Wow. Six rings. Makes it seem like you're too busy to talk to an old friend."

Betty rubbed her eyes after taking half a second to glance at the number displayed on the phone. Unfamiliar. But the voice on the other end was unmistakable. "Caroline."

"It was the sarcasm that gave me away, wasn't it?"

Betty could hear her friend smiling on the other end, and the idea alone was enough to calm her shattered nerves. "There was a certain something about your accusation." Her own smile was starting to form. "How are you? Is everything okay?"

Caroline began to unfold the mystery of her whereabouts - she was with her aunt, as had been the plan from the start. The aunt, she'd told Betty, was an attorney and she was now helping Caroline seek emancipation from her parents. It wouldn't be a straightforward process but nothing had been to that point.

When she'd originally run, Caroline had gotten halfway to where the bus ticket would take her before she changed her course. It wasn't out of fear, she said, nor had she given the decision much consideration. It was as simple as not getting back on the bus after a planned stop.

"I booked it out of town so fast that I really didn't know if where I was going made sense. I didn't want to get to my aunt's and have stuff be the same. I mean, yeah, she's way more liberal and accepting than my parents but I didn't want to have to hide anything, ya know?"

Betty knew all too well. She almost envied Caroline for breaking free of it.

"So I took the cash stash in the bag - which was way, way too much, by the way - bought a tent and sleeping bag at a Wal-Mart and camped out for a while. Got my head straight and all that. Ate my weight in jerky, too."

A silence stretched between them, Betty trying to process the story and what it explained. If Caroline was out of cell range where she camped, it made sense that she hadn't called. The email could have come from a library computer, or even the electronics section of the Wal-Mart where she stocked up on supplies. The amount of money she said she now owed Betty, however, didn't add up.

"I put about a hundred dollars in there. Just enough so that you could check into a motel for a night or buy more minutes on the phone if you needed."

Another pause. "There was close to five hundred in that bag, Betty."

That wasn't possible. Never mind that Betty didn't have five hundred dollars at her fingertips, any amount she did withdraw from her bank balance had to be easily explainable had Alice taken notice.

"Maybe your boyfriend tossed some extra in. With a sweet bike like his, kid's gotta have his hand in something."

Caroline, of course, was teasing - Betty could hear it in her tone. But any perceived slander of Jughead, from anyone, made Betty bristle. "Jughead has two jobs and works really hard for what he has. He isn't a criminal because he drives a motorcycle."

"Whoa, mama lion. I didn't mean anything by it. He did me a solid that night and I was a total stranger. If anything, seems like the kinda glad guy who cares enough to keep the real creeps away from you."

Betty took a deep inhale through her nose, her eyes closing to focus. "He definitely has a protective quality about him."

"Which, as your friend, I'm a thousand percent down with." Betty could hear rustling, and she envisioned Caroline stretching out on the big, comfy kind of sofa that she'd once told Betty she dreamed of having. "So I take it you guys are all shacked up and lovey dovey by now?"

"Something like that." The grin holding Betty's features was, in her estimation, embarrassingly dopey. "He's actually asleep in my bed right now."

"Your bed, huh?" The cheek in Caroline's voice was apparent.

"Mhmm."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Caroline asked.

"A tamer version of what you're probably thinking, but yes."

"Girl!" Caroline was practically squealing into the phone, Betty having to hold it away from her ear to prevent permanent damage. "Congrats on being official. Man, if I were there, we'd have to do something epic to celebrate. Instead, you have to tell me… how was it?"

Betty's cheeks went hot, a surprise considering how intimately she knew Caroline and what Caroline knew of her. "It was nice. Really nice." Betty twisted the edge of his t-shirt in her fingers, the memory of it forming soft flutters in her stomach. "Definitely different than… you know… before."

"Not to rain on your bliss parade but… does he know about before and the webcamming?"

Betty leaned against the cool wall of the bathtub, sliding down a little. Her silence was likely all the answer Caroline needed, which was good seeing as Betty didn't know that she could bring herself to admit to anything.

Over and over, she'd hedged her answer, her own privacy taking precedence over her dishonesty. Betty never pressed Jughead on his sexual history, so why was he entitled to hers? But the same problem always remained… Jughead wasn't trying to pry the information out of her. They'd barely ever talked about sex, much less who they had been involve with or how those entanglements played out. In the end, Betty always felt like the guilty party, withholding something important from Jughead.

Caroline's voice finally broke through her thoughts. "You know I'm not going to get all righteous with you about your business. Cus that's what it is… your business. But… I dunno. He doesn't seem like the judgy type."

"I can tell Jughead anything," was all Betty could offer in response.

"Exactly." A raspy sigh crackled through their connection. "Remember when we first started talking and you told me part of why you wanted to do the webcam stuff was because it let you explore that side of yourself?"

Betty could hardly believe Caroline remembered. "You told me you understood completely because that was part of the reason you started it."

"Right. Thing is… you have someone right there who you can share that kind of stuff with now. And not just the sex or whatever. Obviously that's gonna be a thing now but… if you can talk about anything with him, that means he's been listening and wants to know all your sides. Someone like that? Hell, I had to run away just for the chance at that kind of love and safety."

Betty marveled at how anyone could ever underestimate Caroline. It took one hard look and a handful of words for Caroline to understand what Betty meant to Jughead. And what he meant to Betty. She nearly asked if Caroline had known that night what it'd taken her months to figure out. "You'll find it. And in the meantime, you'll have to settle for a friend like me."

"Don't get me going with all the girly feelings, Cooper." A sharp chuckle, which was so uniquely Caroline, began to soften at the edges. "Just stay off the Internet and tell that broody boy the truth. You won't regret it."

"I will if you will. The first part anyway."

"No promises there. Though, since I've been here, I haven't really felt like it was something I needed to do. Maybe it'll stay that way."

Betty had the overwhelming urge to hug Caroline, wishing that they'd had a chance to actually be normal and do what friends did without the drama that seemed to infiltrate their lives. "I hope so."

"Alright. I gotta go but I'll call you again once I get my own phone."

"Promise?"

"I promise."


	18. Chapter 18

Betty stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window. Nothing of interest existed beyond the clear pane, the dull grey siding of the neighbor's house blocking out the world, but Betty wasn't looking for the purpose of intrigue. Just a focal point, something to help draw conclusions from her jumble of thoughts.

Caroline's phone call had kept her awake most of the night, her body remaining still while she fretted over what she should do. Or, more accurately, what she would do. The truth was easy enough and Betty knew that telling Jughead about her past on the Internet was an inevitability. Convincing herself otherwise was blatant ignorance on her part - and still, she tried.

He would never find out on his own. Even if he indulged in the kind of sterile sex offered up by the Internet, her interactions had been strictly one-on-one. And she'd safeguarded herself with chat software that didn't allow for the video chats to be downloaded or streamed. The "one" on the receiving end could never post what he didn't have.

And he wasn't likely to ever ask. A sudden need to scratch the surface of Betty's sexual history didn't align with Jughead's personality. His laissez-faire attitude about her general past worked well in Betty's favor, but also kept her feeling guilty for taking advantage of his nature.

"Hey."

Betty turned to see Jughead leaning against the corner of the dining room wall, arms folded over his chest. His tangle of dark hair looked almost purposeful and it caused Betty a moment of pure teenage adulation. He was too cute and sexy all at the same time and the embarrassment of her thoughts - especially the ones from the night before - pierced her cheeks a splotchy red. "Hi."

"You were gone when I woke up and I thought you might be sick of me."

How could his smile be so… sweet, and vulnerable and… perfect, she wondered as she set her mug down on the kitchen island and closed the distance between them. "That's not possible."

His hand curved over her hip with a subtle caution. Jughead's limited experience with 'the morning after' left him feeling a little awkward despite the fact that something seemed alight in her gaze, the one he seemed to be holding. "So yesterday wasn't, ya know, too much, too soon?"

"Not to me. It was… amazing." Her eyes slid down to her hands on his chest. "Which is a little cliché, especially when I say it out loud."

His lips grazed her forehead then formed into a grin. "Maybe a little, but I'm definitely not mad about hearing it. That makes us both a little cliché this morning."

Betty was starting to feel like happiness was normal. That this happiness stripped away all the oddities and tragedies of her life and, for once, she was simply a girl. A girl who loved a boy. The fact that he was in a gang and had his own backlog of turmoil didn't matter either. When it was just the two of them, life was like an idyllic picture. One that Betty wished she could climb into and live in forever.

"I love you." She looked up at him, knowing that she would be able to read his reaction easily.

"I love you too, Betty." Which was a big deal, since he could count all the instances of love in his life on less than one hand. And knowing she loved him too? That was everything. "And yesterday… well, I know sex and love aren't the same thing and you don't need one for the other. But it felt like we shared something last night, something important." His knuckles swept gently over her cheek, coming to rest just under her chin. "I don't know. It just feels like the whole world could burn down right now and it wouldn't matter because I'm here with you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

The way he looked at her made Betty's insides steel and her brain screamed 'tell him, tell him now' loud enough that it made her ears buzz from the static. Was she worthy of this place in his life? Obviously he thought so. The only one Betty had to convince was herself, and the only way she could was through honesty. Even if it would ruin their night, and this moment.

"Juggy, I…"

She was cut off by the sound a car door banging shut, the whole world titling on its axis when Betty dashed to the front window and saw her mother emerging from the driver's side of a station wagon.

"It's my mom!"

Jughead was quickly at the foot of the stairs, putting him in full view of the front door. "I'll go back out the window in your room."

"Are you crazy?!" hissed Betty. "She will most definitely hear that." Her head whipped back towards the kitchen and she grabbed his wrist as she dashed across the floor. "Hurry. Go out the back."

They scrambled, Jughead's foot hitting the slatted porch. He paused to catch her standing in the French doors, her grip on the handles so tight that her knuckles were paling. Even in a flight of panic, she still managed to look beautiful and he couldn't help but lean back in for a kiss.

"Meet me at the hideout later."

Betty kissed him this time, her mouth hard and fast against his. "I promise. Just go! This is not how I want my mom to meet you." She pushed at his shoulder, hoping he would take the point.

He winked at her then dashed around the side of the house just as Betty pulled the doors shut. She smiled to herself, even as she heard her mother's heels clacking against the hardwood of the floor.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?"

"Just enjoying the morning air. It is so nice out, don't you think?" She casually swiped her mug off the counter then moved to kiss her mother's cheek.

Alice seemed surprised but she barely let it show. "Driving home with the window down _was_ refreshing."

"Good." She took a sip of tea then headed toward the stairs. "I think I'll go to the library then maybe spend some time by Sweetwater River. If that's okay with you?"

"As long as your homework is finished and you won't be tromping around by the river alone, it should be fine."

"Oh, I won't be." Betty clamored up to her room before Alice had a chance to change her mind. "Thanks, mom." With her door closed, she flopped down on her bed.

For another day, she was safe in her secrets. And another day in peace with Jughead was all she needed.


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

Jughead stood in front of the entrance to the building, his body blocking Betty from it. Her pink coat looked nice - like something people wore to church or a fancy restaurant. She seemed too beautiful and unreal for a place like the Wyrm. Too good for it, even.

Betty took both his hands in hers so she could wrap herself in his arms. "Absolutely sure."

Jughead nodded, not convinced that _he_ was ready for it. He thought of what she'd see - the glassy leers of drunk Serpents, the layer of grime dulling all the light fixtures. The pole on the front stage. For the first time in his life, he felt ashamed of where he came from and what that entailed.

She was about to meet his father for the first time in a bar, partly because it was cleaner and less depressing than their trailer. It was also the place F.P. had chosen when Jughead mentioned that Betty wanted to meet him. Something about business was F.P.'s offered an excuse, but Jughead could hear the slight hesitation, maybe even some embarrassment of his own, in F.P.'s response. Even though F.P. was an adult and the leader of Riverdale's most prominent gang, he would not chance judgment from a pretty girl from the Northside in his own home.

Jughead could explain so much of his life away, be the picture of the boyfriend she deserved, if he didn't show Betty much behind the curtain. But she wanted to see it, wanted to know all the parts of Jughead that no one ever thought to question. She wanted him, good or bad, and it left him unmoored yet equally compelled to accept this unthinkable love.

He kissed her, slow and soft, before reaching behind him and holding the door for her.

The air hung with used nicotine, and Jughead could feel the back of his neck begin to burn as Toni's eyes fixed on Betty as they crossed the bar. Jughead had no intentions of introducing Betty around before she met F.P., and it was some kind of divine providence that Toni was the only person to take notice of him.

He ushered Betty toward the office, and to his surprise, F.P. was standing in the door's frame. Any other time, F.P.'s office required a knock, a signal that he would need to clear the room of any associates and evidence out of what he was into. People often underestimated how savvy Jughead's dad could be, but F.P. knew how to run a business, albeit illegal.

"Jug. Come on in." Jughead noted a clean shaven face and the smell of… sobriety. His father was damn near presentable, passing for a normal parent. It was almost unthinkable to Jughead. "This must be the Betty I've heard so much about."

"Hi Mr. Jones. It's nice to meet you." Betty's hand shook firmly in the exchange, her smile so bright that it almost hurt Jughead to see it wasted.

F.P. nudged a chair out, offering to take Betty's coat. Jughead cringed inwardly when he saw the ragged seat cushion and the way its frayed threads barely held back spots of filling. Betty, however, made no notice of the shabby decor. She just smiled and slid her chair closer to his.

"You guys want something to drink?" F.P. popped open a small fridge that sat in the back corner of the room. Today, bottles of water and soda replaced the usual contents of assorted beers. All the stops had been pulled out and Jughead felt, even if minutely, exactly what he meant to his father.

Betty took a water with thanks, and F.P. sat across his cleared desk from them, a cold can of soda in hand.

"When Jug told me about you, I was a little surprised that you two were friends. I knew your mom when we were growing up and she couldn't get out of the Southside fast enough."

Betty's forehead creased in confused amusement. "Wait… my mom lived on the Southside? She never told me that."

"Oh sure. Your mom was a Southie like the rest of us. It's funny that I tried to hide it more than she did. She kind of liked people knowing who she was. Kept them in line and out of her way." F.P. through back a heavy swig of soda, Jughead wondering if the gesture held up as a behavioral substitute. "Alice Smith. Man, she was tough. But cool."

Jughead saw something… moony in his father's eyes. F.P. was emotionally expressive about very little, but taking a hard right into his high school entanglements wrote a very clear, much unrequited story on his features.

"Really? That's… not how I imagined her." Betty leaned back in her chair, her own expression taking on a disillusioned quality. "We're nothing alike."

Jughead shot F.P. a look - _thanks for breaking my girlfriend._ "I don't know. You're both into journalism. That's something."

"And Jones men, so it seems," F.P. piped in, chuckling at his own joke. "You got the better option, no doubt there."

"Jees, dad." In all the ways he could fail as a parent, F.P. gave nothing away in the 'embarrassing his son' arena.

F.P. offered a mumbled sorry, to who Jughead wasn't altogether sure, before a hush fell over the tiny room. Jughead, his discomfort pushed aside, reached around the chair back to massage Betty's shoulder as she worked through something in her head.

"Parents always keep the strangest secrets. Then tell you it's to protect you," she finally said as she picked her gaze up from the floor. "But her past on the South Side doesn't qualify as that."

F.P. scrubbed at days old scruff, a gesture similar to the one Betty saw when Jughead worried at his unruly locks. It looked like discomfort in F.P., agitation at the potential of being parental. "Maybe she just wanted a clean slate. A chance to have a life where people didn't judge where she came from. She wouldn't be the first person." His dark eyes shifted, falling to his son with something resembling hope. "Or the last."

Jughead hadn't expected this meeting to take a heavy, somewhat philosophical turn and he wasn't sure how to respond to it. He'd wanted F.P. and Betty to get along, maybe even like each other. Was this _that_? He could only trust the idea of it because only his life, even at its most monumental, was this bizarre.

He turned to watch Betty, the bottle of water rolling between her palms. A deterrent, he realized gratefully. "Maybe you're right."

"First time for everything." F.P laughed, cutting through the tension in the room and allowing the conversation to move from the past onto the present. Jughead sat quietly by as his father let Betty talk about school and her work on the paper. F.P. asked questions about grades and plans for college that made Jughead envious of the father he could be when called upon. Was it something he, Jughead, lacked? Or was Betty simply the kind of person who brought the best in everyone around her?

His heart knew the second to be truth and even a conversation lacking in general complexity - 'AP Calculus was my mom's choice, not mine,' - made Jughead's pulse trip. If it were possible for him to fall harder, small revelations like the one he was witnessing would do it.

"I don't mean to cut you off, Betty, but I have a meeting in twenty minutes." F.P. looked at Jughead in the way only a father could, something like hope reading clear on his face. "Down at the Methodist Church on Green Street."

Jughead sat still, stunned. The only meetings that happened at the old church were of the Alcoholics Anonymous variety and F.P. hadn't been to one of those since before Jughead's mom had left. "Okay."

"We'll do dinner at Pop's or something next time." F.P. grabbed up his jacket. "It was nice meeting you, Betty."

"You too, Mr. Jones." She stood up, hands folded in front of her. "Thank you for having me."

F.P. was barely out of the room before the words, "Are you okay?" passed from Betty's mouth.

Jughead didn't have a cohesive answer to that question. He was more confused than anything, but not angry that his father was trying to pick himself up. Even if it was the hundredth time, and even if he was likely to fail. "Sure."

Betty's head tilted, her brow raising ever so slightly. "I like your dad."

"Yeah, he cleans up real nice when he wants to." Jughead looked up from the floor, his elbows balanced on his knees. "I don't mean it to sound so bitter. I'm just trying to keep my hopes under control with him. Today, he's trying. Tomorrow, he could be at the bottom of a bottle again."

Betty's hand smoothed over the back of his shirt, resting lightly against his neck. "At least there's today, then."

And there it was again - Betty making it better by being Betty. The soft turn of her lips into a smile smoothed the rough churn of his stomach smooth out. "Thanks for being here. For everything today. I couldn't do it with anyone but you."

Betty switched from her chair to Jughead's lap, his arm cradling her waist as she kissed him. "I like being that for you, the same way you've been for me."

Jughead let the knowing press and sync of their kiss unwind him. Anything that could have gone awry was behind him and he could spend the rest of the day enjoying time with his girl. It was a small pleasure, but one that he always took great pleasure in. "What do you say to a burger at Pop's?"

Betty grinned. "Only one?" She rose from his lap and reached for his hand. "That doesn't seem like you. Are you feeling okay?"

"Very funny." Grabbing at her waist, Jughead drew her close as they stumbled back into the dark bar.

"Whoa!"

Laughter seized in Betty's throat as she nearly ran into someone. Someone with a face she recognized immediately when she straightened to find it mere inches from her own.

Slash stared back at her, his confusion clear. "Uh. What are you doing _here_?"

Jughead looked between them, strange déjà vu sending his thoughts in circles. "You guys… know each other?" He looked at Betty.

The room tilted slightly and Betty wobbled on a heel, both boys reaching out to brace her. She couldn't put together who asked if she was okay, their voices barely more than soggy sounds.

But another came in loud and clear. "Looks kind of like your Internet girl, Slash." The boy was tall, with dark hair. And the kind of eyes that felt like they were shredding her clothes.

Slash expression shifted quickly to something incredulous. "I didn't know she was your girl, Jones. Otherwise…"

Jughead said nothing, but Betty could see something dawning in his eyes. The room drew silent, every pair of eyes falling to her, almost as if they could see her shame and disgrace. Like they knew she had betrayed the son of their King with her lies.

Jughead's hand slid from her back in a slow gesture. "We should go."

"Juggy, please. Let me explai-" Betty started, but the hard set of his jaw and the sharp, clear cut of his glare trampled her words. All she could manage in the wake of his quiet seething was follow him out to his truck.

Neither said anything as Jughead drove. Flecks of wet snow pelted the windshield, melting before they had a chance to stick. He finally stopped in front of her house, staring down the length of the road in front of him.

"Yes or no. Is it true?" He didn't really need to ask, but the most naive part of him - the hopeful part - wanted to believe mistaken identity was the only culprit, not Betty. "Are you… 'Slash's internet girl?'"

"I'm not his anything. I never was." Betty's own anger flared briefly, the idea that anyone could see her as property raking her already raw nerves. "He was an outlet. Like exploring this other side of myself that was easier to access with a stranger who I never thought I'd have to meet."

Jughead leaned back against the seat, his temples throbbing at her explanation. He didn't really want to know the details of her secret online sex life. Partly because they reminded him of how typical he could really be when it came to masculinity – he kind of hated the idea of anyone, especially one of his friends, seeing her naked. And it only made him feel worse.

"I was going to tell you about everything. So many times. I just…" Betty put a hand on his arm but he pulled it away. "I didn't know how."

"So instead you lied to me?!" His head jerked toward her, his hurt ringing clear.

Fat tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, whether as a reaction to his feelings or her own, Betty wasn't sure. "I'm so sorry, Jug. Honestly."

"Sorry?" He smacked the steering wheel so hard that Betty jumped. "Damnit, Betty! I don't live in a nice place or know any nice people. I'm just trailer trash from the Southside. And I was scared for you to see that and change your mind about me so many times. But I let you see it. That day at Sweet Water swimming hole when I told you about the Serpents. Today, when you met my dad. You made me believe it was all okay."

Betty withered, understanding the exact kind of acceptance he was describing. It was how she'd wanted him to feel about her past. "I… wish I could take it back."

"I wish you could too. But you can't." He was quiet again, the sounds of her sadness making for an unbearable white noise. "Go inside, Betty."

Her eyes stayed focused on her hands, which were balled up in her lap. He wouldn't reach for them this time, she knew. Her skin would split, exposing new red moons, and she'd feel the ugliest she ever had. "I don't want us to be over."

Jughead wanted to tell her that they weren't over, that they would talk once he had time to calm down and unpack all his feelings. It would have been the mature thing to say. But not necessarily the truth, and he couldn't let his heart take the lead this time.

"I have to go." He leaned over and opened her door from the inside. "Bye, Betty."


	20. Chapter 20

Staring at the blurry sweat on his beer bottle, Jughead was beginning to understand his dad's penchant for alcohol. Even if it was short-lived, the inability to feel suited Jughead just fine. It was in his blood, after all. His grandfather, his father. Now him. It wasn't much of a legacy, but after Betty, mediocrity was his only aim. There was no one left to try for. No one left who really gave a damn about what he did or how he did it.

He had avoided the Whyte Wyrm for as long as he possibly could after Betty's admission of dishonesty had blown him apart. Having a conciliatory conversation with one of his Serpent 'brothers' hadn't been a priority and he only surfaced again when he couldn't stand the insistent texting from Slash… and Sweet Pea… and Fangs. Jughead was one of them, they'd reminded him, and he and Slash had to work things out.

So they had. Or Jughead had assured Slash that he held no grudge to get the others off of his back. And so he never had to hear the details of what really happened.

He had been at the Wyrm ever since, sitting in the bar's darkest corner, drowning his sorrows. Days had passed, but Jughead hardly noticed all that. He sometimes crashed out where he sat, or in the office, but he was never far from a bottle. He never had to feel anything for very long.

Today, his chin was resting on his folded arms. The table top was slightly tacky, probably from aged bar residue, but that didn't matter. Not even when it pulled at his arm hair. His posture had kept everyone away.

The only person he could not manage to repel was F.P. He had been 'out' for the first couple days of Jughead's binge, whatever that meant. Maybe business, maybe personal. Either way, Jughead hadn't seen him around the Wyrm. When he returned, he seemed drawn to Jughead, stopping briefly at the bar, probably getting the scoop from Toni as to what the hell Jughead was doing there.

"I'm the last person to lecture anyone on drinking too much, but it's barely noon and Toni says you're three deep." F.P. pulled up a rickety chair and eyed Jughead's bottle. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No." The word wasn't quite a slur but lacked the conviction of its meaning.

"Alright. Then listen." F.P. planted his elbow on the back of the chair, his eyes fixing somewhere across the room. "As someone who's made all the big mistakes in life, I'm lucky that anyone's stuck by me. It takes a special kind of person for it." F.P. swirled the ice in his own glass, almost like he could fool his brain into thinking the water was something else.

"So it's all about you now?" Jughead scoffed.

"It's about the kind of man you are. The kind who gets dealt a raw deal one too many times but still gives out chances. I don't know you like a dad should, or what that girl did. But I can see that not having her around is breaking your heart."

Jughead turned his face away so he didn't have to swipe at tears in front of his dad. "It's been broken before. Plenty of times. I survived."

"You don't have to this time. You can maybe fix it and be happy instead of just getting by."

Happy. Jughead wasn't sure he knew what happiness looked like or what it mean. If anything, Betty had brought him pretty damn close. That was before, though. Lies changed everything. That, unlike happiness, he'd been educated about his whole life.

"What if I can't?" It was a frightened, quiet prayer that only a child would utter. That maybe only a father could answer, Jughead thought. F.P. was right about not knowing him that well, but F.P. was still his dad. Jughead's blood was still Jones and he'd still sat on the man's shoulders in a different life. The warmth of the memory felt like happiness. Maybe that's how F.P. could know. How he could reassure. Not with what he didn't know but what Jughead couldn't forget.

"What if you can?" F.P. abandoned his glass and physically turned Jughead toward him. "She doesn't have to be another broken thing. And she isn't like everyone else who's let you down. You care about her for a reason. Don't let it go easy just because it's hard. You've done more with less. You're still here, aren't you?"

Jughead finally sat ups straight, startled by what he read as compassion in his father's speech. The force and the fire he was use to - the Serpents didn't follow the man for no reason. The heart, though, was Jughead's Achilles heel. It was rare and spontaneous, something saved for moments of another kind. Not to stir the masses but to comfort his son. That's why Jughead came back every time. He was loved and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"I love her, dad."

F.P. reached to squeeze Jughead's shoulder, not at all surprised by his son's vulnerable assertion. "Then don't do it halfway. Go talk to her and figure it out. And maybe give her a break? She probably loves you too and did something stupid because that is what love sometimes does to you. It makes you a little nuts."

Jughead raked his greasy hair. "Is it always like that?"

"Oh yeah. No matter how old you get, or how much life teaches you, love can always turn you into a total fool." F.P. nodded knowingly. "You just gotta remember that so you don't make the same mess over and over again."

Jughead remained silent while F.P. collected his glass and Jughead's bottle, then stood up. "One more thing. Before you go find her… a shower probably wouldn't hurt."

Jughead leaned forward, the corner of his mouth perking up slightly. "Solid advice. Thanks, dad."

F.P. tilted his head, giving Jughead a little salute before turning to toward the bar. "Anytime, boy."


	21. Chapter 21

"See? A little luxury heals all woes."

Betty continued to stare at her feet, which were in a tiny, bubbling tub. A hint of something - lavender, maybe - wafted upward and made her nose itch. Veronica and Kevin had cajoled her into a sleepover at the Pembrooke, complete with an in-home spa session. Their nails would be manicured next, then came the massages. Betty wasn't looking forward to any of it, especially not having some strange woman's hands all over her body, but she tried to curb her misery. Her friends were making the effort one might expect of best friends and Betty was attempting to act in kind. Never mind that Jughead had held the position of 'best friend' for some time, she thought as she half-listened to her friends chatter about Junior Prom. All she wanted was to be riding around in his truck, settled happily under his arm.

The details of their fight, and what read as a subsequent break-up, with few. That's how Betty had wanted it. She had kept things from him, she'd told Veronica, who automatically assumed Jughead to be a complete villain in the matter. If Kevin knew more because of his own Southside Serpent connections, he was keeping that information to himself. Betty knew she deserved Jughead's silence, and maybe some of his anger. Even if it did feel like she was being persecuted for experiencing her sexuality, Betty was aware that she held partial fault in her own fate.

Betty lifted her chin, minutely aware that the conversation had slowed and Kevin and Veronica had zeroed in on her. "What are you guys talking about?"

"You're dress for prom." Veronica's eyes were practically alight with excitement. "I was thinking something pale blue. It would set off your eyes and pair well with your complexion."

The implication in Veronica's tone - so matter-of-fact, like the decisions had been made on her behalf - rubbed Betty the wrong way. Both hands clenched in her lap. "I'm not going to prom."

Veronica turned in her chair, first to glance at Kevin. When he offered her little more than a shrug in the way of support, Veronica redirected her attention to Betty. Her body language suggesting her had anticipated this response and had all of her counterarguments prepared. "Look, Betty, I know that..."

The words felt like white hot soup being poured on Betty's brain, each feeling blurrier and more horrible as her anger rose. It didn't matter what she wanted, how she felt. She was being forced into a stupid dance whether she liked it or not. The same thing with this separation from Jughead - she'd never been given a choice in the matter. Her mother, her friends...everyone. Even Jughead was trying to make her life something it was definitely not, or something she didn't want. And there was no outlet, no release.

Warmth slithered against her palm, a single trickle of blood falling and staining the edge of her denim skirt. New cuts had opened as she dug deep for control, and she could barely handle her own words when she tracked that Veronica's had stopped.

"I'm going." She sloshed water out of the little tub as she stood and groped around for her shoes.

"Going?"

A dark laugh rose in her, a response to Veronica's confusion, but Betty tamped it down. She didn't want to hurt her friend, no matter how oblivious she could be at times. "Yes, as in leaving. I'm leaving. Out the door, to my own house."

"But Betty…" Kevin objection was cut off by the cold cut of her face in the muted light of the room. She playing at drama, nor was she a cause either could hope to win. She wanted to be left on her own, to sort out her feelings as she chose.

The door to Veronica's apartment slammed softly behind her and she trudged through the building and out to the street with damp socks. The chill in the air caused her to pull her collar tight at her neck as she eyed the street for a sign of life. Her phone pressed against her hip as she walked, tempting her to send a text like she had the first day she'd met Jughead. Would he respond, even knowing it was her, if it meant a ride commission? The thought of being another fee, another number, depressed Betty and she continued her walk until the dusky horizon opened up to Pop's.

Jughead bounced on his heels, a small cloud of air streaming away from his lips. The cold of impending night would have been a deterrent for anyone, and Jughead was aware that he already looked out of place standing on the stoop of a nice house, in a nice Northside neighborhood. Still, he had to fix what he'd let lay broken for weeks. He had to give Betty the opportunity to explain her actions, her choices that he'd taken from her the last time they'd been together. It wasn't fair that he had made her wait this long, that much he knew, and he was prepared for her to slam the door in his face, or not open it at all when she saw him through the peephole. Not everything was going to be on his terms. He'd come to that conclusion far too recently, which he considered far too late. Betty deserved, if nothing else, a better friend than that. If she gave him the chance - the one he hadn't given her - he would tell her that, take his own fault in this falling out.

He had to believe that she would, because he had always believed she was better than him. The best of everyone, really. It drove him to knock, the red door painted with foreboding.

 _It would work somehow._

Then he was face to face with a petite blond who wasn't Betty.

The resemblance between them, along with the sharp cut of her disinterested stare, promised that this woman was Alice Cooper. A slight chill spread through Jughead and he stammered his way through an introduction.

"Oh… uh, hi." The crook of her dark eyebrow further shrank his courage. "Is Betty home?"

Her arms folded over her chest – did she really have to be hot on top of everything else? Jughead knew that the attractiveness of his girlfriend's mother should be the last thing on his mind but… it somehow made her more dangerous. "And what, may I ask, do you want with Betty?"

"I…she's a friend. I just wanted to talk to her. Maybe get a burger at Pop's." Jughead had never felt like such a lame duck in his life. Socializing had never been his strongest skill but he knew how to talk to people. And yet, he felt like an idiot standing there, slightly cold and incapable of complex words.

Alice's gaze was appraising, taking in his well-worn jeans and ratty beanie. Even his jacket, which was nice for used leather, seemed an inadequate defense of her scrutiny. Could she tell he was from the Southside, or worse a Serpent? She'd lived on his side of town, maybe that gave her a sense of his background just by looking at him.

"She's not home."

Abrupt. Final. Jughead had been thoroughly dismissed in less than five words.

"Could you… tell her I stopped?"

Alice's arms crossed over her chest, annoyance pulling at her features. But, Jughead realized, the door was still open. He still had her attention, and a chance.

"By the way you're looking at me, I can see your less than thrilled with whatever idea you have of me. But you should know… Betty is the best person I've ever known. Where most people see trash, she seems to see something worthwhile. And I feel that way around her."

A subtle casualty seemed to tick at the Alice's harsh facade. Almost as if to compliment her daughter was to compliment her but she would never fully commit to accepting it. "Elizabeth does have an annoying habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt."

"She's my best friend." Jughead forced himself to meet her gaze. "I just want to talk to her."

If Alice was capable of softness, Jughead thought he spotted something akin to it in the shift in the doorway and the slight relaxation of her features. "I'll try and remember to let her know. No promises though."

With a nod, Alice closed the door – not with a slam, Jughead noted – and he was on his own. F.P. had put a mortarium on Jughead's tenure as designated driver after last call at the Wyrm so the rest of the evening ahead of him. Normally, he would have spent it driving around with Betty, maybe sneaking into her room if her mom was already asleep. But nothing about his life was normal and all he could do was slink back home and debate his next move. Or be a total chump and read instead. Either way, he couldn't hang around on the Cooper's front porch, looking like a creep and undoubtedly straining what little good will Alice exhibited.

He climbed into his truck and turned towards Pop's. A conciliatory cheeseburger was the only sure thing in his future.


End file.
